


More Than Was Lost

by enigmaticblue



Series: More Than Was Lost (Has Been Found) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 49,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Banner has managed to fly under the radar for this long, mostly by hiding in plain sight and trading his services for silence. Tony Stark has never lain low in his life. Their worlds are about to collide in a cave in Afghanistan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art for More Than Was Lost](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/30606) by rubystandish. 



> thomasina75, my partner in crime, asked for a story where it’s Bruce, not Yinsen, who gets asked to patch Tony up, along with the aftermath of the rescue. It’s AU from the beginning of Iron Man (although I have taken dialog from the movie where appropriate) and for most of The Incredible Hulk. (Technically, at least some of the events of the Incredible Hulk take place slightly prior to Iron Man.) Title from the poem “when faces called flowers float out of the ground,” by e. e. cummings. Also fills the hc_bingo prompt “archaic medical treatment” and the trope_bingo prompt “fork in the road.”

Bruce adjusts his glasses and looks at the gash on the young man’s leg. “How did you get this?” he asks, hoping that his meaning is clear despite his mediocre grasp of Pashto.

 

“I was chasing a goat,” he replies with a white flash of teeth as he grins, although the expression quickly turns into a grimace as Bruce picks out a piece of gravel.

 

“Might want to avoid that in the future,” Bruce advises, checking the temperature of the water he’d asked the family to boil. It’s cool enough now, and he carefully irrigates the wound.

 

He opens the medical bag that he’s cobbled together over the last year, and finds a bottle of rubbing alcohol, splashing it over a pair of tweezers so he can finish cleaning the wound before he stitches it up.

 

Bruce irrigates the wound one more time, and then tells the boy’s father and brother, “Hold him down so I can stitch him up.”

 

He threads his needle while the two men take up positions at the boy’s shoulders and feet. Holding the jagged edges of flesh together, Bruce makes careful stitches. He’s picked up a few things over the years, and he probably has more training than most people in these parts, but he’s still not a doctor—at least not of medicine.

 

As far as he knows, he’s the only one in the area with even a modicum of medical training, though, which means he’s been patching up a lot of people, including setting a broken arm.

 

Bruce is just glad that no one has asked him to perform surgery, which is definitely outside of his skill set, and would probably kill the patient besides, given the rather unsanitary conditions he’s working with.

 

He’s just finishing up when the door bursts open. The man who enters is heavily bearded and waving an assault rifle of some kind. Bruce can’t understand what he’s saying, but he continues to shout, apparently making demands as three others file in behind him.

 

One of the other intruders says in Pashto, “Where is the doctor? Where is the doctor?”

 

Bruce can see the indecision on the faces of the family as they weigh whether to shield him, and he stands up straight. “I’m the doctor,” he says in Pashto.

 

“You will come with us!” the same man demands.

 

Bruce knows he doesn’t have a choice. They might not be able to kill him, but if they manage to trigger the Other Guy, the family probably won’t survive. Besides, he knows the American military is in the general vicinity, and if the Other Guy makes an appearance, they’ll be on his trail again.

 

“Yes, I’ll come,” Bruce says in his stilted Pashto. He fishes a roll of gauze out of his bag and hands it to the boy’s father. “Just wrap it up and keep it clean.”

 

The man nods in a wordless apology as he accepts the gauze, and Bruce picks up his bag. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll come with you.”

 

He’s not surprised when they put the rough burlap bag over his head, but he has to remind himself to breathe deeply and not panic as they manhandle him into some kind of vehicle. He thinks it’s a Jeep, although he can’t be sure.

 

Bruce spends the drive reminding himself that he can’t be killed, and that it won’t do anybody any good if he gets worked up. These guys need him for something, and if Bruce gives them what they want, he might get out of this without any more blood on his hands.

 

And if he _can’t_ give them what they want, then they’ll definitely get more than they bargained for from the Other Guy.

 

Bruce complies with their orders as best he can once they stop and pull him out of the vehicle. They push and shove him along, and Bruce offers no resistance, unable to see anything but darkness and the occasional glimpse of rough burlap when there’s enough light to filter through the fabric.

 

Finally, someone pulls off the hood, and Bruce blinks in the bright light of a lantern. As his vision clears, he sees a man stretched out on a makeshift surgical table, his chest swathed in gauze, and he figures that’s why he’s here. The man’s face is slightly battered, and he twitches in his sleep, whimpering slightly.

 

“What do you want me to do?” Bruce asks in Pashto, because this is so far beyond his skill level, he doesn’t even know where to begin.

 

“You will save his life, or we will kill you.” That statement is in English, and Bruce tries to pinpoint the speaker, the first person he’s heard speak his native language in months now.

 

The man who comes forward is clean-shaven, both his head and his face, and his expression is dispassionate.

 

Bruce raises his hands. “Okay, and I’ll do that if I can, but what happened to him?”

 

“Shrapnel,” the man says briefly. “It will kill him.”

 

Bruce doesn’t like where this is going. “I’m not a surgeon,” he protests.

 

“I hope for your sake that you rise to the challenge,” the man replies.

 

Bruce takes a couple of hesitant steps forward, pausing as he gets close. He recognizes the man now—how could he not? Tony Stark is a household name, and his face has been on nearly every magazine cover and definitely every tabloid.

 

Tony Stark is _here_ —weapons designer, liaison to the military, the mind behind some of the more creative weaponry that had been brought to bear against Bruce. If he finds out who Bruce is—assuming Stark survives—he’ll almost certainly tell the army exactly where Bruce is.

 

Stark makes weapons for the military; his nickname is the Merchant of Death. There’s a part of Bruce that believes Stark is part of the problem, and that maybe this is poetic justice; there’s a larger part of him that feels compassion for someone who’s injured, whatever his name happens to be.

 

Bruce moves closer, making a cursory examination. Stark’s lips and fingernails have a bluish tint, and his breathing is labored. With some trepidation, Bruce pulls the gauze away from his chest.

 

When he sees the wounds, he’s reminded of the last village he was in, and the man who had dropped dead after a week. His wounds hadn’t been fatal, but removing all the shrapnel from the bomb had proven impossible, and a fragment had wound up in his heart, killing him.

 

“There’s nothing I can do for him,” Bruce says after a moment. “He’s a dead man walking.”

 

The bald man shouts an order, and suddenly there are half a dozen guns pointing at Bruce, the sound of them being cocked loud in the cave. “You will save him, or you both die.”

 

Bruce is nearly ready to tell him to go ahead, and then a car battery on a nearby table catches his eye, and he has an idea. It’s preposterous, even impossible, but he doesn’t think it matters.

 

Stark will die without intervention, and he’ll probably die with it, but if Bruce can’t save his life, he will at least know he’s done his best. Stark’s blood won’t be on _his_ hands.

 

“I’ll need a few things,” Bruce says.

 

“Make a list,” the man orders, stalking out of the room, and Bruce sets about thinking of all the items he’ll need to keep Tony Stark alive.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony wakes with a gasp, his memories fractured and chaotic. He’d been captured, he knows that much, and he can remember a bright light shining in his eyes as men shouted. His chest hurts more than he can remember anything hurting in his life, and there’s something in his nose that he immediately starts to pull out.

 

“Hey, don’t do that.” The order is given in an accent that’s unmistakably American, and Tony blinks to clear his vision. “Hold still, and I’ll get that out.”

 

The sensation of the tube being pulled out makes Tony’s stomach churn, and he coughs as the man pulls it out completely. “I’ll get you some water,” he says.

 

“Where are we?” Tony asks hoarsely.

 

“Afghanistan,” the man says with a wry smile, handing Tony a glass of water.

 

Tony half-sits to drink the water and realizes there are wires coming out of his chest, and he reaches down to tug at them.

 

“Don’t,” the man orders. “That’s what’s keeping you alive right now.”

 

“What did you do to me?” Tony demands, feeling a rising panic, coughing again.

 

The man shrugs. “I saved your life. Drink your water.”

 

Tony takes a sip of the tepid water, watching the man warily, proceeding with caution for once in his life. With his wrinkled, threadbare suit and faded blue button-up shirt, he looks more like a professor than a terrorist. He watches Tony carefully and runs a hand through his graying, curly hair. Tony drains his cup, and the man takes it from him, setting it on the table next to Tony’s cot.

 

Tony begins pulling the bandages away, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. He feels the hard ridge of something metal and circular, and he tears the gauze away more quickly. “What the hell did you do?” he asks, hearing the incipient panic in his own voice.

 

“I told you, I saved your life,” the man replies. “I got the shrapnel out—some of it, anyway. There was more I couldn’t reach, and it’s moving towards your heart. Most of the time that would be fatal, but the electromagnet in your chest keeps it from going any farther.”

 

Tony can’t get a good angle as he tries to stare at his chest. He can feel the hard ridges, and as best he can tell, there’s a metal socket that goes right through his sternum. “What the fuck?”

 

“Electromagnet powered by a car battery,” the man replies. “Necessity is the mother of invention, and all that.”

 

Tony once again tries to get a better look and feels a nudge at his shoulder.

 

“Here.” He’s holding out a piece of mirror, and Tony uses that to see his chest. “Sorry. It was either that or let you die. I figured this was the lesser of two evils.”

 

Tony figures he’s joking, although he can’t tell for certain. He’s about to ask who this man is when he catches sight of the camera mounted on the cave wall, and the other man shrugs and gives him a wry smile. “Yeah, you’re on _Candid Camera_.”

 

He doesn’t get a chance to ask for the man’s identity, because he hears shouting and banging on the door, and the man whispers, “Stand up, raise your hands, and keep your mouth shut, okay?”

 

Tony’s not good at keeping his mouth shut, but he can’t help the bolt of fear that flashes through him when the door bursts open. All of the men who enter are shouting at the same time, in a language (or languages) that Tony can’t even identify.

 

The other man stands with his hands raised, and Tony slowly does the same thing. “They have my guns,” Tony says. “Why do they have my guns?”

 

“What part of keeping your mouth shut do you not understand?” the man hisses. “Shut up!”

 

One of the terrorists waves something in Tony’s face, a piece of paper, and it crackles slightly.

 

“He says, ‘Welcome, Tony Stark, the most famous mass murderer in the history of America,’” his new friend translates. “He says you’re going to build the Jericho missile for them, the one you just demonstrated.”

 

Tony can’t think of anything he wants to do less. “I refuse.”

 

They grab him and drag him out of the room, car battery and all, down a short hallway and into a dank room, forcing him to his knees in front of a tub of water. Tony knows what’s coming next, and he struggles against their grip, but as weak as he is, he doesn’t stand a chance.

 

Not that he would stand a chance at the best of times.

 

A strong hand pushes Tony’s head under the ice-cold water, holding him there for seconds that seem to stretch on forever. They drag him back out by his hair, shouting in a language he can’t understand as he gasps for air.

 

While he’s still panting, they push his head back under the water again and then again, until Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to catch his breath. He’s wet and cold and his lungs are on fire, and then they drag him to his feet and jerk a burlap sack down over his head.

 

He can’t see much through the fabric, just a few lights and vague shapes, as cold water drips down the back of his neck, soaking the collar of the shirt he’d been wearing when he woke up. Insistent hands push him hard, and he stumbles. Tony can see sunlight through the fabric, and then someone pulls the hood off. Tony blinks in the bright sunlight, which is overwhelming after the darkness of the cave.

 

The man—his translator, doctor, whatever (and Tony really needs to ask his name)—is right behind Tony, and when Tony glances over his shoulder, the man appears calm and unruffled.

 

Tony wonders what role he plays in all this, whether he’s here of his own volition, or if he’d been forced to be here, too.

 

Tony’s betting these guys aren’t big into polite requests.

 

He hangs onto the car battery and looks around, quickly cataloguing his surroundings. They’re in the mountains, but no telling where, and there are crates and weapons piled up everywhere with _Stark Industries_ splashed across all of them.

 

It’s the sudden realization of just how many of his weapons are in the hands of these terrorists that stuns him; Tony feels sick to his stomach, an ache in his chest that has nothing to do with his injuries, although the pain is tremendous, and his chest hurts more than he can say.

 

The man is translating for Tony’s captors again, his steady voice breaking through Tony’s horror. “He wants to know what you think.”

 

“I think he has a lot of my weapons,” Tony replies, trying for flippant and defiant and probably not managing it.

 

There’s another exchange, and the man explains that they have everything Tony needs to build a Jericho missile, and Tony is to make a list of supplies and start work immediately. “And then he says they’ll let you go,” the man adds with a wry twist of his mouth that suggests he doesn’t believe that promise.

 

Tony shakes the bearded man’s hand when it’s offered, because he knows he needs to buy a little time, although he has no intention on building the weapon. Plus, he needs a chance to catch his breath before they start torturing him again. “No, he won’t,” Tony says quietly with an insincere smile, knowing that his captors won’t understand him.

 

“No, he won’t,” the man agrees in English with a raised eyebrow and a placating smile, which tells Tony that he’s not entirely on board with the terrorists’ plan, even if he’s not actively fighting them.

 

They put the bag over Tony’s head again before they take him back to the room where he’d first woken up. Tony figures it’s probably a fairly effective means of preventing escape, since it would be easy to get lost even if he could see where he’s going.

 

When the door clangs shut, Tony sits down heavily on the cot, setting the car battery down next to him.

 

The other man ignores him, starting a fire in a metal container that used to be half a steel drum, bustling about in what looks like an attempt to start dinner. Or is it breakfast? Or lunch? Tony doesn’t know.

 

Tony has no idea what he’s going to do—what he’s supposed to do. He’s terrified, and absolutely sick with the knowledge that these murderers have his weapons, and have probably killed people with them already. He’s going to die, and the guy who saved his life is going to die, and Tony can’t see a way out.

 

“What’s your name?” he asks finally, breaking the silence. “I don’t know what to call you.”

 

“It’s Bruce,” the other man replies after a moment. “Dr. Bruce Roberts.”

 

“How did you get involved with this?” Tony asks as a way to buy a little time.

 

Bruce shrugs. “They needed a doctor, and I must have been the closest. They didn’t leave me with a lot of options.”

 

“Yeah, I’m feeling a distinct lack of options right now,” Tony mutters, rubbing his eyes.

 

Bruce crouches down in front of him. “What are you going to do?”

 

“What can I do?” he demands hollowly. “They’re going to kill me, you—even if they don’t, I probably won’t last a week.”

 

“That’s it?” Bruce asks, disdain in his voice. “You’re going to just give up, after I put all that effort into saving your life? Leave your weapons in their hands, and let that be how the world remembers you, as the guy who armed terrorists?”

 

Tony clenches his hands and takes a deep breath, the harsh words kicking his brain back into gear. “No. No, I’m not.”

 

And suddenly, he has the beginning of a plan.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce doesn’t know what to think of Tony Stark, although he thinks it’s safe to say he pities the man.

 

But then, Bruce figures anybody who gets blown up, beaten up, has a hole carved out of his chest _without_ anesthetic, and then gets tortured and threatened, deserves a little pity, whoever they are. That’s a pretty fucking awful month by anyone’s estimation, and Bruce would have to be a complete monster not to feel at least a little sorry for him.

 

Bruce is a monster often enough that he tries to avoid it as much as possible the rest of the time.

 

He probably could have been a little nicer to Stark after his freak out, but Bruce is still reeling himself. He’s never had to cut a hole in someone’s chest before, and he won’t soon forget Stark’s anguished screams as he carved away while Stark tried to twist against the restraints. Bruce will have a new set of nightmares now to add to the old, familiar ones. It had been a relief when Stark had finally passed out, and when the electromagnet seemed to do the trick.

 

Obviously, only time will tell, but Bruce is proud of that bit of ingenuity, and if it’s crude—well, he had a very limited amount of time.

 

Bruce’s harsh words seem to have lit a fire under Stark’s ass, though, because he’s got a list of supplies, and is giving rapid-fire orders, expecting Bruce to translate.

 

Bruce stumbles along in Stark’s wake, doing his best to explain what Stark needs, and he has to wonder what Stark has planned. Bruce doesn’t think that Stark’s the sort of guy who would build a weapon for terrorists.

 

Maybe Stark hadn’t been good at keeping his weapons out of their hands, but he’d been plenty upset to see where they’d wound up. That makes Bruce like him a little bit more anyway.

 

By the time their captors are done bringing in supplies and setting things up, Stark’s clearly in full command mode, all hint of indecision and fear gone. He’s got a welding station set up, and a makeshift smithy, and a lot of missiles and scrap metal.

 

When the door clangs shut behind the last of the men and supplies, Stark turns to Bruce. “I know you’re good with your hands. I need your help.”

 

Bruce glances up at the camera. He knows there’s at least one person who speaks English, and he has no idea if the room is wired for sound, but he has to make one thing clear. “I won’t help you build a weapon.”

 

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Stark replies, a little heat in his tone. “I’m not building shit for these assholes.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “Hey, I don’t know you, and I don’t know what you would or wouldn’t do.” He holds Stark’s gaze, not backing down, even though he’d known on some level that Stark wouldn’t do that.

 

“Fair enough,” Stark says after a moment. “Will you help me?”

 

Bruce nods, deciding that Stark’s plan for getting himself out of this mess can’t be worse that what will happen if the Other Guy shows up. “What do you need me to do?”

 

Stark demonstrates how to break down the missile, removing the palladium. “One down, eleven more to go,” Stark says. “Get to it.”

 

Bruce has a lot of time to think as he works, mostly about what’s going to happen when Stark makes his move. He suspects there’s no way Stark will agree to leave him behind, and Bruce doesn’t dare trust him with the truth.

 

As long as the Other Guy doesn’t kill Stark, maybe it would be best to let the transformation occur; he’s likely to wind up miles away and mostly naked, but that’s not the worst thing that could happen, and it might be his only option.

 

He pushes the worry aside as soon as he’s pulled out the palladium from all twelve missiles. Stark has built the fire up in the meantime, and has created a mold.

 

“You’re going to have to be the one to melt it down and pour it,” Stark informs him, hefting the battery. “I can’t do that and drag this thing around.”

 

“Okay,” Bruce agrees readily. He’s never done anything like this before, and he rolls up his sleeves and grabs the iron tongs.

 

The heat from the fire is intense, especially in contrast to the cool dampness of the cave, and Bruce can feel sweat roll down his temple as he holds the smelting cup steady, waiting for the palladium to liquefy.

 

“Careful,” Stark warns him as Bruce begins to walk back to the worktable. “We only get one shot at this.”

 

Bruce doesn’t respond, because he thinks it’s pretty damn obvious that he has steady hands, and he doesn’t want to risk spilling. Slowly, carefully, he pours the palladium into the mold, and then sets the smelting cup down on the table.

 

Once it’s hardened, Stark pulls out the thin ring, holding it up.

 

“You going to tell me what you’ve got planned?” Bruce asks.

 

Stark’s expression gives nothing away. “Wait and see.”

 

Bruce doesn’t ask again; after all, he has his own secrets to keep.

 

~~~~~

 

There are two things that Tony needs this miniaturized arc reactor to do: keep him alive, and power the suit that’s going to be their ticket out of here—hopefully leaving enough juice to keep the electromagnet running afterward, at least until he can build a better one.

 

He knows he’s not going to be able to hide his endgame from Bruce for much longer, but Tony’s still not entirely sure he can trust him. Tony knows next to nothing about him, and he has no idea how Bruce wound up here of all places.

 

His hand starts to cramp, and Tony puts the soldering iron down, shaking it out, glancing over to find Bruce watching him. “How _did_ you wind up here really?” he asks, hoping to get a little more information.

 

Bruce’s mouth quirks in a wry smile. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

 

It’s no answer at all, and Tony can’t help but think that the good doctor has something to hide. He tries a different tack. “Do you know who these guys are?”

 

“They call themselves the Ten Rings,” Bruce replies, sounding a little surprised, probably because he’d expected Tony to push. “From what I understand, they want control of the region, and they’re using your weapons to get it.”

 

Tony winces at the reminder, but notes it’s the first bit of information Bruce has offered of his own accord. “I know there are people looking for me, but what about you?” Tony asks.

 

“If you’re wondering whether my disappearance will help with your rescue, the answer is no,” Bruce says firmly. “No one knows where I am, and no one is looking for me. Even if they were, no one could find us here.”

 

“I’m not counting on rescue,” Tony replies, picking his soldering iron up again. “I’m asking because I know next to nothing about you, and I want to be able to trust you.”

 

Bruce looks away. “You shouldn’t. Trust me, I mean.”

 

“Why? You going to sell me out to these guys?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “No, but you shouldn’t count on me.”

 

“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out on helping me,” Tony snaps.

 

Bruce glares at him. “I told you I’d help, and I will. I’m just saying—you know what? Forget it.”

 

“We’re getting out of here,” Tony promises, because there’s something like despair in Bruce’s voice, and Tony doesn’t think it has anything to do with him. “We’re both getting out of here, you’ll see.”

 

Some indefinable emotion flickers in Bruce’s eyes, and he says, “I think you should focus on yourself. You can always send someone to come back for me later.”

 

Tony’s frustrated, because it feels as though Bruce doesn’t trust him—as though he _won’t_ trust him—and Tony doesn’t know how to get through to him.

 

And then Bruce says, “Look, I’m sorry. It’s not that I doubt you, it’s just that I’ve had really shitty luck for a really long time.”

 

There it is again—that brief flicker of emotion underneath the steely calm that Tony figures is a big part of why Tony’s alive.

 

Tony decides to accept the peace offering, although he’s still incredibly curious as to why Bruce seems so insistent that there’s no way they’ll escape together. “Sure,” he says finally, and goes back to his soldering.

 

Bruce moves around the cave, beginning to cook their dinner over the fire, and as Tony gets caught up in his work, the silence starts to feel comfortable again.

 

Tony doesn’t look up when Bruce puts a plate by his elbow, not until Bruce says, “Eat first, finish that later.”

 

He shovels food into his mouth, barely tasting it, mumbling a thank you as he turns back to his work.

 

And some incalculable amount of time later, he’s staring at what he hopes will be his salvation.

 

Bruce stands next to him, his calm broken by fascination. “What—is that a—”

 

“Miniaturized arc reactor,” Tony replies proudly. “I have a giant one powering my company in California.”

 

“What are you going to do with it?” Bruce asks quietly. “That’s not just to keep you alive.”

 

Tony pulls out the thin sheets of paper he’d hidden away, placing one on top of the other. “Flatten them out and see.”

 

Bruce does so, and he breathes out a sigh of what almost might be termed relief. “This is how you’re going to escape.”

 

“This is how _we_ are going to escape,” Tony corrects him. “If we play our cards right, we’re both getting out of here.”

 

Bruce doesn’t argue this time, and Tony tells himself that’s because Bruce is finally on board with the idea that Tony will be able to get them both out of this mess with the power of his mind. All Bruce says is, “Do you need a hand with that?”

 

Bruce is careful as he disconnects the car battery and inserts the mini-reactor, turning it until it clicks into place. Tony feels the rush of power, although he’d be hard-pressed to define the sensation in words. When it’s done, when he can think again, he walks around without the car battery just because he can.

 

Tony almost feels like himself again. No, he feels _better_.

 

Bruce smiles. “That’s an amazing piece of engineering, you know.”

 

“I do know,” Tony replies smugly. “But I was building on your foundation.”

 

Bruce snorts. “Some foundation. An electromagnet and a hole in your chest doesn’t exactly scream mini-reactor.”

 

“It does if you’re a genius,” Tony counters. “Which I figure you have to be. What’s your degree in, anyway?”

 

Bruce freezes, a hint of panic entering his eyes. “I’m a doctor.”

 

“No doubt, and maybe you went to medical school, but there’s more to you than that,” Tony says.

 

He hadn’t been sure about that before, but he is now. Bruce clearly has some inkling as to what Tony had built and how it works; he hadn’t asked how much power it would generate, and he’d immediately leaped to the conclusion that it was for more than just keeping him alive.

 

Bruce remains stubbornly silent, but Tony can hear his breath coming a little faster, and he can see the muscle ticking in Bruce’s jaw.

 

 _He’s scared to death_ , Tony thinks, and he wonders what it is about his simple question that would cause panic.

 

“It’s okay,” Tony says quietly. “Look, it’s fine if you don’t want to tell me. Forget I asked.”

 

Bruce glances at him, and there’s _something_ there. So many layers, so many secrets, and Tony wants to unearth every single one, but the guy had saved his life. He can afford a little patience.

 

“My undergrad degree was in physics,” Bruce offers, and Tony knows it’s only a small piece of the truth, but it’s something.

 

Tony nods in acknowledgment and says, “Now, we move on to phase two.”

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce is grateful that the terrorists are mostly leaving them alone. He knows they’re being watched through the cameras and that they don’t really have any privacy, but the reprieve gives him a chance to breathe.

 

Pretty much literally, because he’d been certain that Stark had discovered his secret when he’d asked what Bruce’s degree was.

 

For a moment, Bruce had been certain that Stark had put two and two together, and realized that at least some of his weaponry had been used to try and take out the Other Guy, but no.

 

And then Bruce remembers that Stark’s weapons—a lot of them—had been in the hands of terrorists, so it’s not like he knows the location of every gun, bullet, and missile.

 

Stark has no idea, and Bruce prefers it that way. The fact is, Bruce really _wants_ to like Stark, and that’s going to be hard to do when he flips out about the Other Guy.

 

Honestly, it’s been such a long time since Bruce has forged any sort of connection with another human being that he’s not sure what to do with it.

 

Tony busies himself with making the pieces for the suit, welding metal together for the chest plate and creating what amounts to a jetpack so he’ll be able to fly. Bruce tells himself that this is the best possible plan, because Tony will have a suit of armor that will protect him from bullets and the Other Guy, and he’ll be able to fly away, and Bruce can stay behind and deal with cleanup.

 

It’s the first time the Other Guy will actually be good for something.

 

Tony hammers away at the helmet, and Bruce watches him out of the corner of his eye. Even though Tony hasn’t been able to do much more than trim his beard, and even though his only means of cleaning up had been a basin of water heated next to the fire and a thin sliver of soap, he looks good.

 

Even with welding goggles on, he looks good.

 

Bruce wonders if there’s some kind of Stockholm syndrome going on.

 

“Hey, take a break,” he calls when Stark pauses in his hammering to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “I’ve got food.”

 

Stark strips off the heavy leather jacket he’d been wearing and lets it drop in such a way as to obscure his project from the cameras. “You know, I’d offer to cook, but I’m pretty sure I’d poison us both.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “I don’t mind. You’re doing a lot of the heavy lifting.”

 

Stark shakes his hand out, and Bruce can see a mild tremor when he reaches for the tin cup of water. “Have you ever done any welding?” he asks.

 

“Not really my thing,” Bruce admits. “I was always more on the theoretical side.”

 

He stops, realizes what he’s just given away, and swallows hard, but Stark either doesn’t pick up on it—highly unlikely—or he’s decided not to push for information. All he says is, “There’s a time when you have to put theory into practice.”

 

Stark has no idea what those words mean to Bruce, who had made the mistake of doing just that. That’s the whole reason he’s in this mess to begin with. He should let it go, change the subject, but instead he says, “And there’s such a thing as jumping the gun.”

 

“You sound like you’re speaking from personal experience,” Stark observes after a moment.

 

Bruce sighs and goes for the noncommittal response. “Everyone has done something like that, right?”

 

“What? Leaped before they looked?” Stark asks. “I guess so.” He taps the arc reactor in his chest. “It seems to have worked out okay this time.”

 

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Bruce warns.

 

“No, but at least we’re on the right track,” Stark replies.

 

There’s no arguing with Stark, who is apparently refusing to even think about the possibility that his plan might not work. Bruce wonders if this is typical for Stark, or just Stark under the circumstances.

 

And maybe Stark’s relentless optimism makes sense, because the alternative to escape is death for him, and unlike Bruce, he actually wants to survive. Not that Bruce has a death wish; it’s just that he knows dying isn’t the worst thing that could happen to him.

 

“How much longer?” Bruce asks in a bid to change the subject.

 

Stark shrugs. “Hard to say, really. Why? You have somewhere you have to be?”

 

“I’ve never exactly had a full social calendar,” Bruce replies wryly. “I was wondering more for your sake. They’re probably going to think you’re dead.”

 

Stark smirks. “Hopefully, they said nice things at my funeral.”

 

“Do you have any family?” Bruce asks, suddenly curious as to whether anybody is missing Stark, or waiting for him to return home.

 

Stark sobers. “No. Not really. You?”

 

Bruce shakes his head. “No. There’s nobody.”

 

“Well, doesn’t that just make us a pair?” Stark asks.

 

“Sometimes it’s easier,” Bruce admits quietly. “I travel lighter, and I don’t have to worry about leaving anybody behind.”

 

Stark’s mouth twitches into a grimace. “Yeah. I hear you there.”

 

“But you have people who will miss you,” Bruce counters. “People who are looking for you.”

 

“Not like you mean,” Stark replies. “Look, I think I’m done for the night. Do you have a deck of cards or anything?”

 

Bruce nods. “I think I can scrounge something.”

 

He ends up asking one of the guards, who had taken a shine to Bruce while he’d been waiting for Stark to wake up, although, that probably has something to do with the fact that Bruce had been able to provide something to clear up a really nasty ear infection. There’s no doubt in Bruce’s mind that the young man will shoot him if ordered to do so, but he seems amenable to making Bruce’s life a little easier.

 

In this case, it involves a pack of cards.

 

“I’m pretty sure there are some missing,” Bruce says as he shuffles the deck.

 

“That just makes things more interesting,” Stark replies. “Gin rummy work for you?”

 

Bruce chuckles. “I haven’t played that since college.”

 

For a little while, there’s only the sound of water dripping somewhere, and the soft shuffle of cards.

 

“I feel like I know nothing about you,” Stark complains.

 

“That’s because you don’t know anything about me,” Bruce replies with a smile.

 

“And you like it that way.”

 

“It’s safer.”

 

“My life is an open book,” Stark points out.

 

Bruce isn’t going to be baited into revealing too much. “What works for you doesn’t always work for the rest of us.”

 

“You know, I’m just going to make up stories if you won’t tell me anything about yourself,” Stark threatens.

 

Bruce raises his eyebrows. “And those stories will probably be more interesting than the truth.”

 

That’s a lie; Bruce is fairly sure that Stark wouldn’t be able to come up with the Other Guy on his own.

 

“Did you get your heart broken?” Stark asks.

 

The suggestion is so mundane that Bruce smiles. “A couple of times.”

 

“Break the law?”

 

“More than once.”

 

“Piss off somebody in power?”

 

Bruce thinks of Ross and winces. “Yes.”

 

Stark perks up. “That struck a nerve.”

 

“Can we change the subject?” Bruce asks plaintively. “Like, what are you going to do with the arc reactor when you get out of here?”

 

Stark frowns. “I’m not sure whether to be happy that you’ve finally admitted that it’s _when_ we get out of here, or worried that you left yourself out of that equation.”

 

Bruce sighs. “When _we_ get out of here.”

 

It’s not exactly a lie. Bruce won’t be sticking around after Stark’s escape.

 

“Better,” Stark agrees. “And I’ve been thinking about that. I know I can improve on the design, use it to make one that’s bigger, better. Think of it, Bruce. Think of the possibilities of a clean energy source, something that means we won’t be dependent on fossil fuels.”

 

Bruce smiles. “It could change the world.”

 

“I need to do something that makes the world a better place,” Stark replies, his voice both intense and sincere. “I don’t want to see my weapons fall into the wrong hands, not again. I want to make this right.”

 

Bruce hopes he gets the chance to do just that.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony should have been thinking about the cameras. He’d hidden his designs for the suit, and he knew that the welding and soldering could easily be passed off as him doing exactly what had been asked of him, but he hadn’t thought about the cameras, or the suit’s frame.

 

If he had more time, and better materials, Tony would have taken more time with it, since it has to be strong enough to bear the weight of the suit and still move smoothly. Of course, if he’d had better materials, he could make it lighter overall, and reduce the strain from supporting the armor. It’s sort of a catch-22, and Tony wants to be sure it’s going to work, and that the joints move right.

 

It’s just their bad luck that the boss catches sight of Tony trying out the frame for the right leg.

 

Tony takes it off as soon as he’s sure it’s going to work and hides it among the jumble of scrap metal and spare parts, but the terrorists burst in right after that, shouting and waving guns. Tony’s almost gotten used to it, but there’s a slightly different tone now, and they go for Bruce immediately, seizing him and forcing his hands behind his back.

 

Bruce looks a little freaked, and Tony wishes he knew what they were saying so he could formulate some response.

 

“You are wasting my time.”

 

Tony’s seen the guy around, but he’s always stayed in the background, and he’s never spoken English, at least around Tony. He’s tall, bald, and clean-shaven, and his eyes are cold.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tony protests, lying through his teeth. “You told me to build your missile, and I’m building it.”

 

The guy barks an order in a language Tony doesn’t speak, and his men force Bruce to his knees. “You think you can make a fool out of me?” he asks in English.

 

Bruce has his eyes closed, and his nostrils flare as though he’s taking deep breaths.

 

“What are you doing?” Tony demands. “What is this?”

 

“Stop lying!” the man shouts. “You will build the Jericho missile for me, or I will kill you.”

 

“Yeah, I got that, absolutely,” Tony replies quickly, wanting to buy a little time. He’s close to finishing the suit, very close. He just has to hold the goons off a little longer. “I am. I’m building it.”

 

The man barks another order, and this time the two men force Bruce’s head down, so that the side of his face is pressed against an anvil.

 

Tony feels a mounting panic. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m demonstrating just how serious I am,” the man replies, and gives another order.

 

Tony watches in horror as one of the terrorists uses a pair of tongs to pull a glowing coal out of the fire, and another hooks a finger in Bruce’s mouth, forcing it open.

 

The coal moves closer and closer to Bruce’s open mouth, and Tony can only imagine what this will do to him.

 

It won’t kill him right away—probably—but it will make it impossible for him to eat or drink or talk. It means excruciating pain, and if Bruce survives it, permanent disfigurement.

 

Tony will never forgive himself if he lets anything happen to Bruce, if he winds up being responsible for Bruce’s torture or death.

 

“Stop!” he calls desperately. “I need him.”

 

The coal stops just inches away from Bruce’s face, and Tony wonders if it’s just a trick of the light, because Bruce’s skin looks a little green.

 

“I’ll build your missile, but I can’t do it without him. I need an assistant,” Tony insists, hoping that it will be enough of a reason for them to leave Bruce unscathed.

 

Tony has no idea whether that explanation is going to suffice, but the man barks another order, and the goons release Bruce, who curls in on himself on the floor.

 

“You have 24 hours,” the man says, and then they all stalk out, the door clanging shut behind them.

 

Tony approaches Bruce, wanting to be sure he’s all right, and Bruce says in a strangely hoarse voice, “Don’t.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, pulling back momentarily before moving forward again. He rests a hand on Bruce’s back and feels him shudder. “God, I’m sorry, Bruce.”

 

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

 

Tony has no idea whether Bruce is trying to convince himself or Tony of that fact, but he agrees, “You’re okay.”

 

“You’re on a deadline,” Bruce says after a moment, not moving. “Can you make it?”

 

“I guess I’ll have to,” Tony replies. “I’m going to need your help.”

 

“You have it,” Bruce promises, slowly pushing himself up off the floor. By the time he’s standing, he looks a little pale, but otherwise unharmed. “Whatever you need me to do.”

 

Ideally, Tony would have another week to work on the suit, but that’s clearly not going to happen. He has no doubt that the terrorists will be knocking on his door as soon as his 24 hours are at an end, and if he’s not finished, they’ll kill them both.

 

As Tony pounds away on the helmet and Bruce works on the ancient computer Tony’s manage to cobble together, he thinks about how he knows next to nothing about Bruce, and yet still has no desire to see him hurt.

 

He wonders if it will be possible to bring Bruce home with him—not forever maybe, but for a little while. He wonders if whatever it is that Bruce is running from could be resolved by greasing a few palms.

 

Tony would do it. He owes Bruce a lot.

 

“Done,” Bruce calls, and bangs on the monitor a couple of times as it flickers. “What next?”

 

“Better cook a last meal, doc,” Tony advises. “I’m not sure when we’re going to be able to eat again.”

 

He plunges the faceplate into a bucket of water and pulls it out again, wishing he had a chance to try the whole system before really putting it to the test.

 

Tony has just managed to put the finishing touches on the pneumatics when Bruce announces that it’s time to eat. Tony shovels down food without tasting it.

 

“How close?” Bruce asks, inhaling his own food.

 

“Close,” Tony confirms. “Just a few more things, and then I’ll have you help me get into it. When things get sticky, stay behind me. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

 

“Look, Tony—” Bruce begins.

 

“No,” Tony says sharply. “You don’t get to say that.”

 

“If something happens, I want you to know that I’m glad I got to save your life.” Bruce’s sincerity undoes him. “I won’t say it’s been fun, but it hasn’t been all that bad, considering.”

 

Tony nods sharply. “Thanks. I—look. If you need anything once we get out of here, if I can help in any way, I will.”

 

Bruce smiles. “You can’t, but thanks for the offer.”

 

Tony wishes he had the time to pry, but he doesn’t. Instead, he goes back to his work, finishing just shy of the 20-hour mark.

 

“Time to suit up,” Tony orders. “I don’t trust them not to rush the deadline.”

 

“Especially when they see what we’re doing,” Bruce points out, but he starts to do just that, making sure that the breastplate is in place before moving on to the legs and arms. Tony is beginning to feel like a knight out of one of those legends, complete with a squire buckling him in.

 

“Okay, now the computer,” Tony orders. “Get the program started, and then finish buttoning me up.”

 

Bruce executes the program, and then hurries back to help Tony finish putting on the armor. Tony can hear a commotion out in the hallway, and Bruce’s fingers fumble with the fastenings.

 

Tony cranes his neck, trying to get a look at the progress bar. “How’s it coming?”

 

Bruce glances over his shoulder. “It’s coming, but not all that fast.” The shouts grow closer. “I think they’re on to us,” Bruce adds with a rueful smile.

 

“Then they’re going to get a surprise,” Tony replies. “Relax, and finish it up.”

 

Bruce finishes screwing the breastplate into place. “Okay, okay.”

 

The voices are right outside the door now, shouting something Tony can’t understand. “What are they saying?”

 

“I have no idea what language they’re speaking,” Bruce admits. “I think it’s something Slavic. I don’t know. I told you, I only speak Pashto, and maybe a little Arabic.”

 

“And I speak Dari, and that’s not it,” Tony replies. “So, I guess we’re both in the dark.”

 

The door begins to open, and their diversionary tactic goes off without a hitch, blowing the door open and getting rid of their visitors.

 

Bruce finishes screwing Tony into the suit, and Tony really doesn’t want to know how long it’s going to take him to get out of it. “Where are we on the progress?” Tony asks, beginning to feel a little nervous, wishing he could see the computer monitor.

 

“This machine is ancient,” Bruce grumbles, looking at the screen. “It’s not moving fast enough.”

 

“You’re telling me,” Tony says. “Look, just make sure I’m well clear of the door before you follow, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt, and I’m the one with the suit.”

 

Bruce stares at the screen, as though willing it to go faster, but there’s nothing either of them can do. Tony can’t move until the program finishes loading—and there are more shouts from the hallway, growing ever closer.

 

Bruce takes a deep, audible breath, looking scared to death. “Look, Tony, it’s been—it’s been great. Terrifying at times, but really great. Thanks.”

 

“Bruce, don’t you dare,” Tony says, even though there’s nothing he can do to stop him. “ _Don’t_.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “I’m going to buy you some time. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

 

And then he runs through the blasted open door, and Tony’s stuck where he is, waiting for the program to finish loading, even though he wants nothing more than to run after Bruce.

 

“Fuck!” Tony shouts. “Bruce!”

 

As soon as the program is finished loading, Tony puts the helmet on, hearing a roar echo through the caves, louder than the sound of gunfire. It’s like nothing he’s ever heard before, not a beast, but not a human, and he has no idea what might have made that sound.

 

But he doesn’t have time to worry about that now, because he’s got a suit of armor, and he can hear footsteps getting closer.

 

Tony clenches his fists, wishing he could see what’s happening with Bruce, and waits for the men to enter. He triggers the flamethrower when the first terrorist gets close, blasting him back. The others open fire, and Tony gives them the same treatment. The bullets bounce off the suit, just like he planned, and he fires on two and knocks the others into the side of the cave.

 

The suit is unwieldy, but not too heavy. The arc reactor gives Tony the power, and the frame lends him the strength to move the heavy metal. He stomps along the corridor, hearing the echo of metal on stone with every step, keeping in mind Bruce’s directions on how to get out.

 

Tony just hopes that Bruce is following the same directions.

 

He turns a corner and finds three terrorists pointing weapons at him, and Tony raises a hand to blast them, but two are swept away by a large green fist.

 

Tony has to tip his head up to get a good look through the eyeholes of his mask, and he sees a broad green face and bared teeth.

 

The creature roars at him, and Tony raises his hands. “Hey, uh, hi,” he manages, remembering the rumors he’d heard, the ones he’d dismissed out of hand as being ridiculous.

 

Turns out, not so ridiculous.

 

Big Green pushes Tony aside hard enough to have Tony bumping into the cave wall, and then he punches a couple of terrorists behind Tony hard enough to knock them back 20 feet.

 

“Okay, you know, I like your enthusiasm,” Tony says, flipping up the mask. “Smashing the bad guys, really good call.”

 

Big Green turns to look at him. “You like Hulk smash?” he rumbles in a deep, gravelly voice.

 

“Absolutely,” Tony agrees. “Smash all you want, unless it’s me. I’d rather you not smash me, if it’s all the same to you.”

 

And suddenly it hits Tony fully, who Big Green really is. Bruce runs out, Big Green appears, and he smashes terrorists, which buys Tony time. It’s too much of a coincidence to be anybody else.

 

Big Green growls at him, and Tony adds, “We’re friends, right? You saved my life, so I owe you—twice over.”

 

“Friends?” Big Green rumbles. “Hulk don’t have friends.”

 

Tony’s not usually inclined to argue with something that’s nine feet tall and could kill him with a well-placed blow, but Bruce _had_ saved his life, and Hulk seems pretty much invulnerable—and also _not dead_ —and Tony wants to keep Bruce close, in any form.

 

“Well, you’ve got me, for whatever that’s worth,” he replies. “We can be friends. What do you say? Wanna smash some bad guys?”

 

Hulk grins at him and roars, “Hulk SMASH!”

 

“Go for it,” Tony replies, flipping down his mask.

 

With the Hulk leading the way, there’s no trouble getting out of the caves. Anybody that Hulk doesn’t send flying, or that he doesn’t stomp, Tony shoots or flames. Bullets don’t faze Hulk, and they ping right off Tony’s armor.

 

The chief terrorist comes out of nowhere stands between them and the exit, holding a rocket launcher. He fires at Hulk, who grunts at the impact, but is otherwise unharmed. Tony shoots back with a rocket of his own but misses, although he hits a crate of weapons behind the guy, who’s caught by the ensuing explosion.

 

Hulk is the first one out of the cave tunnel, and Tony hears the terrorists open fire. Hulk blocks the exit, and Tony can only assume he’s trying to protect Tony. If you can call a huge green creature “sweet,” that’s the word Tony would use.

 

“I need to blow up the weapons,” Tony shouts, trying to get Hulk’s attention. “I’ll be okay, Big Guy. I’ve got the suit.”

 

Hulk turns and growls at him, but then rushes forward, arms outstretched, bowling over half the terrorists. Tony immediately fires up the flamethrowers, clearing out another set of terrorists and lighting crates of weapons on fire.

 

The explosions start up, and Tony calls, “Sorry, Big Guy, but things are going to blow up. You might want to duck!”

 

Hulk bares his teeth in what might almost be a grin. “Metal Man smash!”

 

“Your wish is my command.”

 

Hulk doesn’t even flinch at the explosions; he just flings terrorists around, throwing them as though they weigh nothing, pounding them into the ground, shaking them like ragdolls. Under Hulk’s onslaught, the rest of the terrorists flee, and Tony can’t blame them.

 

Not that Tony’s going to say it out loud, but he can see why Hulk doesn’t have friends; anybody with sense would run screaming.

 

Then again, Tony’s never claimed to have any sense.

 

“Okay, so I think it’s time for us to get out of here,” Tony calls. “I need to explode a few more things, and then we should get going.”

 

Hulk’s expression is suspicious. “Metal Man want to capture Hulk.”

 

“No, no way,” Tony insists immediately. “You saved my life, remember? I just want to help, and you’re my friend. I want you to stick around. I can help you.”

 

“No one helps Hulk.”

 

“Have you met me before?” Tony asks.

 

Hulk frowns, as though he thinks it’s a trick question. “No.”

 

“That’s my point,” Tony says. “Clearly, you just haven’t met the right person.”

 

Hulk watches him, and while Tony doesn’t think Hulk has Bruce’s intelligence, he’s definitely got a certain native cunning. “Hulk follows.”

 

“Okay, so I’ve got no control over this,” Tony warns him. “Just do your best, okay?”

 

Hulk grunts. “Hulk keep up.”

 

“Okay, here goes nothing,” Tony says.

 

Hulk shields his face as Tony lights up as many crates of weapons as he can, and in the ensuing fireworks, Tony shouts, “I’m off!”

 

It’s really more of a long hop than any kind of flight, and he crashes into sand, the impact shuddering through his bones. Tony tries to catch his breath, slowly crawling free of the remnants of the armor. Tony takes a quick stock of his injuries and decides that while his right shoulder is definitely injured, and he has a few cuts, and bruises on top of bruises, he’s walking away relatively unscathed.

 

Looking at the remains of his suit, Tony feels a small pang, knowing that he’ll have to leave it behind, and then the ground shakes under his feet as Hulk lands next to him.

 

“You okay, Big Green?” Tony asks.

 

“Hulk okay,” he rumbles.

 

Tony nods. “Okay. I think we need to start walking, although I have no idea what direction.”

 

Hulk grabs him around the waist and jumps, and Tony knows that he’s going to have more bruises from Hulk’s grip, but he doesn’t complain. Tony has no idea how far he’d traveled with the first hop, but Hulk is taking them well out of the range of the terrorists.

 

On the third leap, Hulk puts him down, and then drops to his knees.

 

“Hey, you okay?” Tony asks, hovering at Hulk’s shoulder.

 

Hulk doesn’t reply, but the green tinge of his skin begins to fade, turning pale, and his bulk shrinks into Bruce’s compact form. Bruce’s shirt is gone, as are his shoes, and his pants are in tatters. Tony sees the expanse of skin, and the curve of Bruce’s spine with fresh understanding, and complete fascination.

 

The fact that Bruce has such power lurking under his skin… Tony wants to know more; he wants to know everything about what makes Bruce tick. Now that Tony knows Bruce’s secret, he’s even more intent on keeping the man around—and not just because Tony finds him incredibly attractive.

 

Bruce collapses onto the sand, and Tony hesitates before he pulls off his long sleeve shirt and drapes it over Bruce’s back. Bruce isn’t moving, but when Tony checks, he has a pulse, and he’s breathing okay. Tony can only assume that transforming takes a lot out of him, and he’s willing to wait for Bruce to come around on his own.

 

Tony rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath. It’s been a hell of a day.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce groans as he claws his way back to consciousness, feeling the same soreness he always does after a transformation. He feels the grit of sand on skin, and fabric draped over his shoulders, and hears, “Easy. Sorry I don’t have any water or anything. I didn’t really think that through.”

 

It’s the first time Bruce has woken up after a transformation with someone he knows who isn’t talking about how Bruce really ought to be locked up for his own good, or others’ protection.

 

“Tony?”

 

“The very same,” Tony says. “I think we should probably get moving, if you’re up for it. I’d offer to carry you, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t make it more than ten feet. Walking in sand is a bitch.”

 

Bruce rolls over to meet Tony’s eyes. “What the fuck?”

 

“You know, I could ask you the same thing,” Tony says conversationally. “Considering that you didn’t give me any warning about turning into an enormous green rage monster.”

 

Bruce closes his eyes. “You didn’t have to come with me. You could have just left.”

 

“Are you kidding me? I asked Hulk to follow me, and he did. More than that, he got us as far away as he could,” Tony replies. “Come on, up and at ‘em. We should make tracks.”

 

Bruce sits up slowly. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m keeping us both alive,” Tony replies, using a tone of voice that indicates Bruce is being stupid.

 

Bruce takes a deep breath. “You should have left me there. I would have been okay.”

 

“You would have _survived_ ,” Tony corrects him. “I wouldn’t call that living. I’ll make you the same offer I made your greener half: come with me, Bruce. You’re my friend. I can help.”

 

Bruce frowns. “You don’t even know my real name.”

 

“So, tell me,” Tony invites.

 

Bruce hesitates. He hasn’t used his full name in a long time; he hasn’t _trusted_ anyone with his full name. “Doctor Robert Bruce Banner,” he finally says. “But I go by Bruce. That part wasn’t a lie.”

 

“I don’t think you told me a lie, not one that matters,” Tony replies. “And I get it, okay? Just stick with me. I’ll make sure you’re protected.”

 

“You don’t owe me anything,” Bruce protests, not wanting Tony’s pity, or his charity. “Here’s your shirt.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot. I owe you my life, but that’s not why I’m doing this. And keep the shirt, you need it more than I do. Wouldn’t want you to get too sunburned.”

 

“Then why are you doing this?” Bruce demands.

 

Tony gives him a quick, sincere smile. “Because I like you. Just as important, I trust you.”

 

Bruce stares at him, dumbfounded. “I could kill you.”

 

“Several times over, in fact,” Tony agrees. “You didn’t. I think that counts for something.” He clambers to his feet, and reaches down to haul Bruce up. “The sand isn’t too hot, is it?”

 

The sand is uncomfortably hot on his bare feet, but it’s not going to kill him. “I’ll deal with it. This is a really bad idea, for the record. The Army is still after me.”

 

“The Army can go fuck itself,” Tony replies. “They can’t have you.”

 

He starts plodding along, and all Bruce can do is follow in his wake. “How much do you know about me?” Bruce asks.

 

“I’ve heard of you,” Tony admits. “Just a little bit. And I’d heard of the Hulk, even though I didn’t believe the rumors. I just didn’t know there was a connection.”

 

Bruce’s stomach twists in remembered shame. He’d been so fucking cocky back then, so careless with his own life and those around him, so certain that he was right. “I was a fucking idiot,” he says bitterly.

 

“Tell me about it,” Tony invites, and he sounds completely sincere.

 

“What is there to tell?” Bruce asks with a shrug. “The Army wanted me to recreate the super soldier serum, to duplicate the work with Captain America back in the 40’s. I was so sure I had it that I tested it on myself. You saw the results.”

 

“It could have happened to anybody,” Tony says, glancing over his shoulder. “You took a risk, you made a mistake.”

 

“And everybody else keeps paying for that mistake,” Bruce snaps. “Do you want to know the first person I hurt? It was the woman I was in love with.”

 

Tony doesn’t reply, and Bruce wonders if maybe he’s finally gotten it through his thick skull that Bruce isn’t _safe_.

 

“So, why _were_ you with those guys?” Tony asks after a couple of minutes trudging along in silence.

 

“Huh?” Bruce asks.

 

“The terrorists,” Tony replies with exaggerated patience. “Why didn’t you just go green and smash them all when they kidnapped you?”

 

Bruce frowns, not quite sure where Tony’s going with this. “I was with a family at the time. I didn’t want them to get hurt.”

 

“What about when they were going to torture you?” Tony asks. “They were going to torture you, and you didn’t smash them.”

 

Bruce swallows, taking a deep breath at the remembered fear. “You were there. I didn’t want—” He stops as he realizes what point Tony is trying to make. “I wouldn’t have been able to hold it together if he’d actually hurt me.”

 

“And I wouldn’t have wanted you to, because quite frankly, I’m pretty sure your greener half _loves_ me,” Tony replies smugly. “Maybe you’re not completely safe, Bruce, but think about the blood I have on my hands for a minute, and then try to tell me that you’re a bad guy. Which of us has the nickname ‘the Merchant of Death?’”

 

Bruce doesn’t have an answer for him.

 

“The Army isn’t going to let me go,” he says after awhile, deciding to change tactics.

 

“Bring ‘em on,” Tony says, and Bruce really should have known that Tony would take that as a personal challenge.

 

“And when they arrest me on sight?” Bruce counters, acknowledging to himself at least that he’s going to follow Tony come hell or high water.

 

Tony shakes his head. “Not gonna happen, Brucie. I have connections.”

 

“Of course you do,” Bruce mutters.

 

He’s not sure how long they walk before he catches the faint sound of helicopter rotors in the distance.

 

“Looks like someone got our message,” Tony says.

 

Bruce snorts. “Oh, is that what you were doing?”

 

“It served a dual purpose,” Tony says grandiosely. “Look, just let me talk to the guy in charge, and I’ll clear it, okay?”

 

“Do I have any other choice?” Bruce asks ruefully.

 

Tony glances over his shoulder. “In a word? No.”

 

“Right,” Bruce says and mentally braces himself.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony is incredibly grateful to see the helicopters. The fact that it’s Rhodey who meets them is a relief. He’s certain that Rhodey will help him.

 

The rotors kick up a lot of sand, so Tony lets Rhodey come to them, and he immediately hauls Tony in for a hug, in spite of the flight gear. “Next time, you’re riding with me,” Rhodey says, and Tony can tell he’s just a little choked up.

 

So is Tony, for that matter, but he’s got a mission.

 

“Rhodey, that’s Bruce Banner, he saved my life, and I really need you to bury the paperwork, or do whatever it is you do to make sure no one knows who or where he is,” Tony whispers in a rush.

 

Rhodey pulls back. “Tony, I don’t know—”

 

“I’ll explain in more detail later,” Tony promises. “But he’s a doctor, he saved my life, and he’s American. Isn’t that enough?”

 

Rhodey looks over Tony’s shoulder at Bruce, and then he nods, although he still looks puzzled. It’s probably a good thing he’s so happy to see Tony that he’s not asking any other questions. “Nice to meet you. How about we get out of here?”

 

Tony and Bruce each get a headset and a bottle of water when they climb into the helicopter, and Tony begins to gulp his.

 

“Slowly,” Bruce advises him. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

 

Tony obediently sips. “How did you find us?”

 

Rhodey smiles. “Got your message. When we didn’t find a body, we figured they’d keep you as a hostage. We weren’t sure what was going on when we didn’t get a ransom demand —but I knew you’d figure something out.”

 

Rhodey’s faith in him is humbling, but Tony knows that he wouldn’t be alive to _be_ rescued without Bruce. “ _We_ figured something out,” Tony insists.

 

Rhodey gives Bruce a sharp look. “I hadn’t heard of another American going missing in this area.”

 

“Probably because no one missed me,” Bruce replies equably. “And no one would have been looking for me.”

 

Rhodey maintains a pleasant expression. “Lucky for Tony you were there.”

 

“Lucky,” Bruce echoes, sounding faintly disbelieving.

 

Tony suspects that Bruce is having second thoughts right about now, surrounded by military personnel, heading for a military base. It probably feels a little bit like waving a red flag in front of a bull, if only because Bruce has no idea what Tony can do when he has the full resources of Stark Industries behind him, plus his military contacts and his vast fortune.

 

“We’ll get you guys checked out, let you get cleaned up, and then we’ll send you on your way,” Rhodey says. “A military transport plane will fly you to L.A., Tony.”

 

“Bruce comes with me,” Tony insists.

 

Rhodey frowns. “I’m not sure I can swing that. He doesn’t have a passport, and I can’t just—”

 

“Tony, it’s okay,” Bruce says quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“That’s not how this works,” Tony replies. “Rhodey, buddy, I need you on this one. I know him. That should be good enough.”

 

Rhodey blows out a breath. “You’ve met him before?”

 

“There was a conference,” Bruce says quietly. “We were both there. You can check the records.”

 

Tony doesn’t ask which conference that was, because that would detract from Bruce’s story, but he doesn’t remember, and Bruce hadn’t said anything.

 

“Which conference?” Rhodey asks, looking at Tony.

 

Tony hesitates, and then has a flash of memory. He hadn’t put it together—Bruce looks different now, and Tony’s only known his real name for a few hours. “Italy, 2000. You gave a talk on collisions. I remember.”

 

Surprise crosses Bruce’s face. “Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

 

Tony shrugs. If he’d really been paying attention, he would have remembered sooner.

 

“I’ll check it out, and see if I can get things sorted out,” Rhodey replies. “And I’ll try to do that thing we talked about, Tony.”

 

“Great.”

 

Bruce sends him a questioning look, but Tony just shrugs.

 

The trip to Bagram is a quick one, and while Tony doesn’t want to be separated from Bruce, the doctors direct them to different rooms, and he can’t think of a graceful way to object.

 

Rhodey follows Tony, still in his gear, and hovers as the doctor cuts Tony’s tank top off. The long walk through the desert has given his shoulder plenty of time to stiffen, and he can’t pull it off over his head.

 

“What the hell is that?” Rhodey demands when he sees the arc reactor.

 

Tony taps the arc reactor. “This is the electromagnet keeping shrapnel from crawling into my heart. Bruce had the original idea; I just refined it. This is what I used to escape.”

 

The doctor feels along Tony’s ribs, making him hiss in pain.

 

“That looks like it hurts,” Rhodey says.

 

“Could be worse,” Tony says philosophically. “I could be dead.”

 

The doctor clears his throat. “We’re going to need to take a look at your shoulder, sir. It may just be a strain. We can do an X-ray here, see if there are any other problems. An MRI is out of the question with the metal in your chest. You should follow up with your own doctor when you get back stateside.”

 

“Thanks,” Tony says.

 

The doctor nods. “I’ll get it set up. Be right back.”

 

When the doctor is gone, Tony says, “I don’t suppose you know where I can get some clothes.”

 

Rhodey smiles. “I got you covered. I still have your luggage from before.”

 

“You really did believe I’d be found,” Tony says with a smile.

 

“You’re nothing if not resourceful,” Rhodey replies.

 

Tony nods. “Great. I think some of my stuff will fit Bruce.”

 

Rhodey nods. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but why was he half-naked?”

 

Tony is fairly certain that Rhodey is going to find out anyway, so he says, “Have you heard of the Hulk?”

 

Rhodey frowns. “Some chatter, maybe. It’s some kind of weapon, right?”

 

“You could say that,” Tony agrees. “It’s an offshoot of the super soldier experiments from World War II. Bruce is the Hulk. When under duress, he turns into an enormous green rage monster, which is why it’s really important that nobody tries to grab him on the base—or anywhere else. He likes me, but I can’t say the same for everybody.”

 

“All right,” Rhodey says slowly. “I’ll bury the paperwork, but I can’t cover for him forever.”

 

“Just long enough for me to get him back on my own turf,” Tony agrees. “I can take it from there.”

 

Rhodey nods. “I can take care of things from my side, at least for that long.”

 

“Ready for your X-ray, Mr. Stark?” the doctor asks, reentering the room.

 

Tony nods. “Yeah, sure.” He looks at Rhodey. “Do me a favor and check on Bruce, huh?” Rhodey rolls his eyes, which Tony ignores, since Rhodey does that a lot. “Please.”

 

“I’ll take care of him,” Rhodey replies. “Go, get your shoulder looked at.”

 

Tony submits to the X-ray and the blood tests, and the rest of the poking and prodding, and then he takes a much-needed shower, shaves off the stubble and trims his beard. Rhodey’s left Tony’s luggage in the room, and he pulls on a fresh shirt and suit.

 

He feels more like himself immediately, and he picks out something for Bruce to wear and goes looking for him.

 

Tony finds Bruce in a long room with rows of cots and a set of windows on one end of the room. He’s a few feet from the windows, his back to the door, barefoot and wearing scrubs.

 

“Hey,” Tony says, approaching cautiously.

 

Bruce doesn’t turn immediately. “Hey.”

 

“They treating you okay?” Tony asks.

 

“Fine.”

 

“You want something else to wear?”

 

“Not if it’s a uniform.”

 

Tony smiles. “Rhodey kept my luggage. It’s my stuff.”

 

Bruce finally turns to look at him. “Isn’t that a little awkward?”

 

“You wearing my clothes?” Tony asks. “It’s only awkward if we’re not sleeping together.”

 

“We’re not sleeping together,” Bruce points out.

 

Tony shrugs. “Well, it’s not like we’ve had the opportunity.”

 

“We don’t have the opportunity _now_ ,” Bruce replies. “And if they decide to keep me here, we’re never going to have the opportunity.”

 

“Did you get a shower?” Tony asks, secretly delighted that sex is apparently an option if they get out of here in one piece. “Because you can use the one in my room.”

 

“I managed to get cleaned up, yes,” Bruce agrees.

 

Tony nods. “So, get dressed, and then we’ll get out of here just as soon as there’s a military transport that can take us.”

 

Bruce disappears behind the screen around one of the cots, and reappears a few minutes later wearing Tony’s spare clothes—slacks, shirt, and tennis shoes, because that’s the only spare pair of shoes Tony has at the moment.

 

To Tony’s practiced eye, the clothes are ill fitting, but most people probably won’t notice.

 

Bruce shifts uncomfortably. “Is this okay?”

 

“For now,” Tony replies. “Once we get back to L.A., we can get something that fits you better.”

 

“That’s assuming I’ll be going with you,” Bruce counters dubiously.

 

“Rhodey said you would be, and I trust him,” Tony says simply. “Like I trust you.”

 

Bruce’s expression doesn’t change. He searches Tony’s face, and then he nods, almost to himself, and takes a step forward.

 

Tony takes that as permission, and reaches out for Bruce, who closes the distance.

 

Bruce is good at kissing. One hand scratches the back of Tony’s head, the other pushes under Tony’s jacket, down the back of his trousers until he reaches bare skin.

 

Tony’s surprised by the contact and Bruce’s boldness, but he doesn’t mind—quite the contrary.

 

“I promise, I’ve got your back,” Tony says when Bruce breaks off the kiss. “You’re going to be fine. _We’re_ going to be fine.”

 

“Maybe,” Bruce allows. “I hope you’re right about that.”

 

Tony doesn’t intend to be wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

Pepper is asleep when the call comes in, her heart in her throat when she sees Rhodey’s number.

 

Rhodey has been great at calling her with updates, but he always calls during the day, at some point when Pepper is sure to be awake. The fact that he’s calling now, in the middle of the night—

 

“Yes?” she answers, sounding a little breathless to her own ears.

 

“Pepper?” It’s not Rhodey’s voice, but Tony’s, and Pepper presses her lips together tightly to stem the rising tide of emotion. “It’s me.”

 

“Hi,” she manages. “Where are you?”

 

“Bagram, with Rhodey,” Tony says. “I’m flying back the day after tomorrow, and I have somebody with me.”

 

Pepper’s still trying to process the fact that Tony is alive, so she can only ask, “Who?”

 

“His name’s Bruce, he’s a doctor, and he saved my life,” Tony explains in a rush. “He’ll be staying with me for a while. Can you make sure one of the guest rooms is ready?”

 

“Of course,” she says automatically, because that’s her job—making sure Tony has what he needs, or what he wants, and she’s been spinning her wheels these last few months. There had been plenty to do to keep things running in Tony’s absence, directives to carry out, people to push.

 

But she’s been an assistant without someone to _assist_ , and it’s a relief to know that Tony will be back.

 

Call her crazy, but she’s rather fond of him.

 

“He’s probably going to need some clothes, too,” Tony says. “The clothes we escaped in are pretty much trashed, so he’s wearing my stuff.”

 

“I’ll need sizes,” Pepper points out.

 

“Rhodey will send you the details, along with the flight info,” Tony promises. “See you in a couple of days.”

 

The line goes dead, and Pepper puts her phone on the nightstand, her head a jumble of thoughts and emotions. But now that Tony’s off the phone, her first clear thought is _Tony Stark doesn’t have houseguests_.

 

There are guest rooms in the mansion, and Obadiah has stayed overnight on the rare occasion when he’s worked late with Tony and doesn’t feel up to the drive home. Once in a blue moon, Pepper will sleep in a guest bed for the same reason. When women sleep over, they’re in Tony’s bed, and they’re shown to the door the next morning, if they don’t make a graceful exit on their own.

 

Never, in all the time Pepper has known Tony, has he asked her to prepare a guest room with the purpose of having someone stay indefinitely, nor has he asked her to purchase clothing for said guest.

 

Pepper knows she isn’t going to get back to sleep, so she rises and pulls on her most comfortable clothing. She’s in the middle of making up a shopping list, when the email from Rhodey comes in.

 

_Pepper,_

_Tony’s fine. He has some kind of electromagnet in his chest, keeping him alive, but he’s otherwise unharmed. We’ll be arriving at the Los Angeles Air Force Base the day after tomorrow, around 3 pm. I know I can trust you to keep this quiet, but we’re bringing Bruce Banner with us. No matter what Tony’s told you, under no circumstances is there to be press when we land, and tell no one about Banner._

_Rhodey_

 

In a PS, he adds pants, shirt, and shoe sizes, and Pepper assumes the information is for this mysterious Bruce Banner. With that, Pepper realizes that she has no idea what kind of clothing Banner would prefer.

 

Out of curiosity, and rationalizing it as a need to do thorough research, she does an internet search for Bruce Banner. There are a few, but she zeroes in on a nuclear physicist who had been under contract with the Army, and who had apparently disappeared several years ago.

 

She finds a few pictures, and he’s invariably dressed in slacks, a button-up shirt, and a blazer of some sort, looking rumpled and somewhat uncertain.

 

That gives her a starting point, along with the sizes, and she orders enough clothing to last him for a few days. If Banner ends up staying longer, he can buy more clothes of whatever sort he’d like.

 

Pepper finds it hard to believe that Banner will stick around for any length of time, since so few people have. There aren’t many willing to put up with Tony’s brand of crazy long-term unless they’re being paid very well to do so.

 

Then she replays what Tony had said, and what Rhodey had written, and she connects the dots. Banner has apparently been with Tony for a while, maybe the whole time, and they haven’t killed each other yet. In fact, Banner had apparently saved Tony’s life, and maybe kept him alive during the last three months.

 

With that thought, Pepper adds a few more things to the shopping list, figuring it can serve as a thank you for keeping her boss alive, and preventing Pepper from having to hunt for a new job.

 

By the time she goes to meet the transport plane, Pepper has everything ready—the guest room has been freshened, the clothing has been cleaned and is hanging in the closet, and the fridge is stocked.

 

She’s a little surprised that Obadiah isn’t meeting Tony at the base, but he’d said he had an important meeting, and Pepper doesn’t question him.

 

If Obadiah wants to claim pressing business with Stark Industries to avoid meeting Tony’s plane, Pepper’s not about to argue. She’ll be there. That’s the important thing.

 

Tony walks off the plane under his own steam, which is more than Pepper thought she could hope for, considering that he’s been missing for three months. He’s leaning on Rhodey, and his right arm is in a sling, but once they’re down the ramp, Tony lets go and waves off the waiting gurney.

 

And even if she hadn’t looked Banner up, she still would have spotted him as the guy who doesn’t quite belong. She recognizes Tony’s dress shirt and slacks, and they’re a bit ill fitting—although it’s not so obvious that most people would notice it.

 

Banner twists his hands nervously, his dark curls windblown, and hanging in his eyes. He’s the only one who isn’t in uniform, other than Tony, and he’s watching Tony like Tony holds the secrets of the universe in his hands.

 

 _Well, shit_ , Pepper thinks, because sooner or later she’s going to have to kick Banner out, and it’s going to be that much more awkward because he saved Tony’s life.

 

Tony does have a knack for complicating matters; it’s one of the reasons Pepper has stuck with him, since he’s always a challenge.

 

“Your eyes are red,” Tony says when he walks up to her. “A few tears for your long-lost boss?”

 

Pepper manages a smile. “Tears of joy. I hate job hunting.”

 

“Yeah, well, vacation’s over,” Tony replies, but she can tell that he’s just as touched as she is. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

 

Tony waves Banner forward, and Banner obliges. “Pepper, this is Bruce. Bruce, Pepper. I have a feeling that you two will get along great.”

 

Banner extends a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“Likewise, Dr. Banner,” she replies warmly.

 

He ducks his head. “Call me Bruce.”

 

“Bruce, then,” Pepper replies. “There’s a car waiting.”

 

Rhodey doesn’t accompany them, but Bruce follows Tony and Pepper into the backseat of the limo. “The hospital, Happy,” Pepper says.

 

“No, not the hospital,” Tony says, countermanding the order immediately.

 

“Tony!” she protests.

 

“I want exactly two things right now,” Tony replies seriously. “I want an American cheeseburger, and I want you to call a press conference.”

 

Bruce clears his throat. “Tony.” It’s just one word, but Pepper can hear a wealth of meaning—a warning, a plea, a hint of impatience. “No press.”

 

Tony shrugs out of the sling. “They’re going to find out sooner or later.”

 

Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, as though he can feel a headache coming on; Pepper can sympathize. “Me being on camera in front of a bunch of reporters would be like waving a red flag at a bull,” he says, his tone a study in forced patience. “You’re going to have enough to deal with as it is.”

 

They lock eyes, and Pepper realizes that they’ve forgotten her presence entirely. Maybe that’s what spending three months in a cave together will do.

 

Tony’s the first one to look away, staring at the window, and he nods. “All right. You’re off the hook this time.”

 

“I will do whatever I can to help, you know that,” Bruce says, quiet and sincere.

 

A half-smile forms on Tony’s face, and he turns to Pepper. “Press conference for me. Bruce is going to need a ride home.”

 

Pepper pulls out her phone. “I’ll handle it.”

 

“I can wait in the car,” Bruce offers, “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

 

Pepper doesn’t look up from her phone. “We’ll hold the press conference at Stark Industries. Bruce, if you don’t want to leave right away, you can wait in my office, or in one of the break lounges.”

 

Bruce nods cautiously. “That’s fine. As long as I can avoid the press.”

 

“Happy will pull around back,” Pepper says firmly. “You can come in through the employee entrance. No one will look at you twice.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony advises him. “I sneak in and out of places all the time.”

 

Bruce snorts. “You?”

 

“Well, board meetings,” Tony admits.

 

Pepper shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “That’s true enough.”

 

She’s still not quite sure what she thinks about Bruce Banner, and she has no idea how long it will be until Tony gets bored, but—

 

 _Three months_ , she thinks, and wonders if this isn’t something different.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce had the argument with Tony on the transport.

 

He suspects that this is going to be a recurring theme—Tony pushes, Bruce pushes back, Tony doesn’t listen, Bruce growls.

 

Growling would probably be the end of the conversation with anybody _other_ than Tony, as long as they knew about the Other Guy, but Tony is convinced that the Other Guy likes him, and would never hurt him. Bruce thinks he’s insane, because the Other Guy is as dangerous as a so-called tame tiger—sure, the tiger might not eat you _this_ time, but that doesn’t mean he won’t at the next possible opportunity.

 

In this case, however, Bruce had won, mostly because he had pointed out that no purpose would be served by having him at the press conference.

 

“I would be there for moral support only, and it’s too risky,” he’d said—repeatedly, because Tony doesn’t always listen the first time around.

 

“Fine, you’re right,” Tony had finally said, pitching his voice low enough so that only Bruce could hear him, but loud enough to carry over the sound of the plane’s engines. “It’s too much of a risk, we don’t need the trouble, yadda yadda. Got it.”

 

Bruce abruptly felt guilty at that, knowing that this was going to be a tough sell. No one was going to be happy that Tony was changing the game. “I’ll be there after,” Bruce had promised.

 

“How long?” Tony asks sharply.

 

Bruce suddenly knows that he’s going to end up promising Tony a lot more than he ever intended, because he hadn’t planned on committing to stay any specific length of time. “I’ll give you a month.”

 

Tony had nodded, and that had been the end of it until they’d actually been driving to Stark Industries.

 

Pepper’s solution is about perfect, and Happy drops Pepper and Tony off in front and then drives around back.

 

“I’ll show you where you can hang out, Dr. Banner,” Happy offers.

 

Bruce isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to being surrounded by people who exist just to make Tony’s life easier, and who are around all the time. “Can I get you anything?” Happy asks after he shows Bruce to a relatively luxurious break room, although Bruce can see he’s anxious to get back to Tony.

 

“No, I’m good,” Bruce replies. “I’m just going to relax for a while.”

 

“I’ll let the secretary know you’re here,” Happy promises. “She can at least bring you something to drink.”

 

Happy is gone before Bruce can try to convince him otherwise, and he shrugs. He spots a half-full coffeepot, and he pours a cup, glancing around the room. There’s not much to do, and he wishes he at least had some reading material.

 

“Is there any coffee left?”

 

Bruce turns to see a man slip into the room, wearing a faint smile. He’s nondescript, with a receding hairline and a pleasant expression, wearing a suit that isn’t so nice as to be remarkable, or so bad to be noticeable. He looks like an accountant.

 

The hair on the back of Bruce’s neck rises, and he rubs his free hand against his borrowed pants.

 

“I think there’s enough for a cup,” Bruce says. “I can probably figure out how to make more if you want.”

 

“Just one cup is good,” the man says pleasantly. “My name’s Phil Coulson.”

 

Bruce just looks at him for a minute, and decides to trust his gut, which has served him well so far. “Bruce Banner, but you already knew that.”

 

Coulson smiles. “You’re even sharper than I’ve been told.”

 

Bruce eyes the door, and wonders what his chances are of getting past Coulson. “What do you want?” he asks flatly.

 

“I just want to have a conversation,” Coulson says pleasantly. “Nothing more.”

 

Bruce estimates that his chances of escape without an appearance from the Other Guy are about nil. “Okay.”

 

Coulson pours his own cup of coffee and sits down at one of the small tables. He maintains his silence until Bruce sits down across from him, noticing that Coulson has allowed Bruce to take the chair that’s closer to the door, very carefully not blocking Bruce’s exit.

 

 _Oh, he’s good_ , Bruce thinks.

 

“I’m from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division,” Coulson says, and he might as well be saying that he’s from the Internal Revenue Service for all the inflection in his voice.

 

“Quite a mouthful,” Bruce observes.

 

“We’re working on it,” Coulson replies, the bland smile still firmly in place.

 

Bruce has already strung the letters together, and he’s pretty sure they’re already calling themselves SHIELD. It’s just that this way, Coulson can sound self-deprecating and not entirely put together. Bruce is certain that it’s an act. “I’m sure. What do you want?”

 

“We know about you, Dr. Banner,” Coulson says bluntly. “And we know that the Army is very interested in you.”

 

“The Army can go fuck themselves,” Bruce snaps, half-rising. He can make it out of the room and out the back, and if Coulson tries anything, Bruce will go green, and steal Tony’s thunder.

 

Of course, that will probably mean breaking his promise to Tony about staying for a month, but he can probably find a way to send word.

 

“You misunderstand me,” Coulson says, leaning forward, the smile sliding off his face. “We want to make sure you’re free from interference. We can keep the Army off your back.”

 

Bruce blinks and sits back down warily. “I don’t believe you.”

 

“What would it take to convince you?” Coulson asks, like he’s serious, like all Bruce has to do is name his price, and Coulson will meet it.

 

But the proof—the real proof—would be Bruce stepping in front of the cameras trained on Tony right now, and waiting to see if the Army—specifically, General Ross—comes calling. That’s too much of a risk, trusting someone he’s just met. He’d had a hard enough time trusting Tony, and they’ve been together for the last three months.

 

“I promised Tony one month,” Bruce says, the answer suddenly obvious. “I was going to try to lay low, but you know Stark. It’s not possible. So, keep the Army off my back for a month, and we’ll talk.”

 

Coulson nods. “A reasonable request.” He reaches into a pocket and hands Bruce his card. “I’ll be in touch with Miss Potts as well.”

 

Bruce frowns. “This is about—you _know_.”

 

Coulson doesn’t confirm or deny whether SHIELD knows that Tony had flown out in a suit made of iron, or whether they know about the arc reactor. “I’ll contact you again in a month,” he promises smoothly. “If we’ve kept our end of the bargain, and we haven’t been able to speak to Mr. Stark by then, I hope you’ll help us out.”

 

“Maybe,” Bruce says, which is all he’s willing to promise. “I’ll have to see how good you guys are at keeping your promises.”

 

“We’re very good,” Coulson replies. “But I understand that you need to see that for yourself. Good luck, Dr. Banner.”

 

Bruce doesn’t ask what Coulson means, and Coulson deposits his cup into the trash before leaving.

 

And honestly, Bruce has no idea what to think about it all, but he’s intrigued. He thinks it’s doubtful Tony can protect him from the Army on his own long-term, and having someone else running interference might be helpful.

 

But Bruce can’t help but think that there’s a catch. There’s _always_ a catch.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony’s used to being alone. He’s used to being unable to connect with other people, and mostly he doesn’t mind. He’s brilliant, and rich, and he’s always been set apart from his peers and everybody else.

 

He had expected that people wouldn’t understand why he’s taking Stark Industries in a new direction, but he hadn’t expected the emotional toll the furor would take.

 

“What do you think the over-under on the stock drop is going to be?” Obie demands after the press conference is over.

 

Tony loosens his tie. “Forty points, give or take.”

 

He looks at the large arc reactor in front of him, and thinks about how he can improve it. Eventually, he’ll make an arc reactor that will power entire cities; it will change the world.

 

“At minimum,” Obie enunciates clearly. “If we’re _lucky_. Tony—”

 

“Tony?”

 

Tony feels some of the tension leaving his shoulders, and he turns from the reactor to face Bruce. “Bruce. Hey.”

 

Bruce’s expression is hesitant. “Happy said you were here, and that you were done, and I thought—I can wait outside.”

 

“Is this the elusive Dr. Banner?” Obie asks with a sharp smile that Tony mistrusts.

 

“Bruce, this is Obadiah Stane. Obie, this is Bruce,” Tony explains, feeling as though he doesn’t have any other option but to introduce them, and somehow feeling like it’s a bad idea.

 

Bruce is _his_ , in a way that few things are (other than Pepper), because Tony knows Bruce’s secret, and Bruce had saved his life.

 

Plus, Obie is looking at Bruce like he’s one of Tony’s new inventions, like he had looked at the Jericho missile schematics when Tony had first come up with it, looking past the design to the dollar signs.

 

Avarice—that’s what it looks like, like Obie wants to take Bruce apart and see what makes him tick, and Tony moves in front of Bruce, shielding him.

 

“Pleasure to meet the man who saved Tony’s life,” Obie says, holding out a hand.

 

Bruce steps around Tony to briefly clasp Obadiah’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, too,” he says neutrally.

 

Obie raises his eyebrows. “Well? What have you got to say for yourself, Tony?” he asks, returning to the conversation they’d been having before Bruce interrupted. “We’re ironmongers. That’s what we do.”

 

“That’s not all we have to do,” Tony argues. “I think we should take another look at arc reactor technology.”

 

Obie waves at the large arc reactor, which is inefficient and not even close to being cost effective. It’s a conversation piece more than anything else, something they built to demonstrate that Stark Industries isn’t only about innovations in weapons.

 

Tony wonders what he might have been able to accomplish if he’d given up making up weapons a little earlier, if he hadn’t followed in his father’s footsteps.

 

How many lives would have been saved if Tony had turned his talents in some other direction than making bombs?

 

“We built that thing to placate the hippies,” Obie says, but Tony has already realized that he _knows_.

 

Obie knows about the arc reactor in Tony’s chest, and he has to wonder who told him—it had to have been either Rhodey or Pepper, and he’s guessing Rhodey, since Obie probably knows about Bruce, too, and that’s the only explanation that makes sense.

 

“I’m kind of a hippy,” Bruce says mildly, but Tony can sense the underlying challenge. “And if Tony wants to create a means to produce clean energy, I don’t see what the objection is.”

 

Obadiah turns that same greedy look on Tony. “The arc reactor technology hasn’t gone anywhere in thirty years.”

 

Tony knows a challenge when he sees one, and he says, “Who told you? Your poker face is shit, by the way.”

 

Obadiah keeps on smiling, and Tony adds, “It had to be Rhodey,” even as he unbuttons his shirt to expose the arc reactor.

 

Obadiah immediately starts to button up Tony’s shirt, like he doesn’t want anybody to see what’s in Tony’s chest. “Keep that under your hat, my boy,” Obadiah says. “And leave the press to me. No more of this ready, fire, aim business.”

 

Tony nods jerkily, suddenly uncomfortable, although he couldn’t say why.

 

“You two lay low for a while,” Obadiah advises. “Let me handle things, okay?”

 

Tony nods. “Sure. Yeah.”

 

Obie pats him on the shoulder. “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Banner,” he adds as he leaves. “I hope you’ll be staying for a while.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

 

As soon as Obadiah is well out of earshot, Tony asks, “You were just saying that, right? Are you planning on leaving?”

 

Bruce raises his eyebrows. “I promised you a month, didn’t I?”

 

“You said—”

 

“I trust _you_ ,” Bruce says, interrupting Tony. “At least, I trust that you’re going to do your best to keep your promises. I don’t trust Obadiah Stane.”

 

Tony catches an undercurrent in Bruce’s voice that he doesn’t think was there before—and whatever Bruce thinks of him, Tony _knows_ Bruce, at least well enough to know there’s something going on. He’s pretty sure that something had happened, and Bruce isn’t telling him about it.

 

Maybe Bruce doesn’t feel as though he _can_ tell Tony about it.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” Tony suggests.

 

Happy drives them to the mansion, Pepper in the backseat with Tony and Bruce. “There’s a lot for you to catch up on,” Pepper says.

 

“I’m not interested in that right now,” Tony replies, cutting her off. “I’ve got all the time in the world. I need to focus on what we’re going to do going forward.”

 

“I wish you’d told me what you were planning,” Pepper complains. “I could have prepared for the fallout.”

 

Bruce snorts. “I don’t think anyone can prepare for the fallout that Tony brings.”

 

Pepper smiles, but Tony gives him a hurt look. “I thought you were behind me on this one.”

 

“I fully support your decision to get out of the weapons business,” Bruce says evenly. “But the point remains—there’s no real way to prepare for that kind of announcement.”

 

“I’ve been doing this for a long time,” Pepper replies, a bit of a bite in her voice.

 

Tony holds up a hand. “I didn’t have time, Pepper. And honestly, I didn’t want anybody to try to talk me out of it. I wasn’t in the mood.”

 

Pepper’s expression softens slightly. “I just think that maybe it would have made sense to wait until you’d been back for a while. They’re going to think you did this because of trauma.”

 

“They can think whatever they want,” Tony replies with some heat. “I don’t want weapons to be our only legacy. We can do better than that.”

 

Pepper sighs. “I understand. I just think we have to be realistic about things. This isn’t going to be pretty.”

 

“Pepper, I’ve been in a cave in Afghanistan for three months, and I have an electromagnet in my chest keeping me alive,” Tony replies, his temper beginning to fray. “ _That_ wasn’t pretty. This is pocket change. This is just _money_.”

 

“Tony,” Bruce says softly, putting a hand on Tony’s leg. “Easy.”

 

Tony takes a deep breath, reminding himself that Pepper is not the enemy here. It’s been awhile since he’s been around anybody he could trust—other than Bruce, that is.

 

Pepper manages a smile. “I’m sure you both want to get into clean clothing and relax for a while. I made sure the fridge is stocked. If it’s okay with you, Happy can drop you off and then take me home. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

 

“Thanks, Pep,” Tony says sincerely. “For everything.”

 

Pepper nods, as Happy pulls up in front of the house. “I’m glad you’re back, Tony. It was really nice to meet you, Bruce.”

 

“You too,” Bruce replies, climbing out of the car.

 

Pepper reaches out to grab Tony’s hand. “Are you going to be okay?”

 

Tony manages a smile. “I’m fine. Bruce will be here, and we’ve got Jarvis to look out for us.”

 

“See you tomorrow,” Pepper promises.

 

Bruce waits for him outside the front door, and then follows Tony inside. “Nice place you have here,” he comments, looking around.

 

“It serves my purposes,” Tony replies. “You want a drink? Because I really need a drink.”

 

Bruce hesitates, but then says, “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

 

Tony pours them each a couple of fingers of scotch. “I doubt it really needs to be said, but _mi casa es su casa_. You can take one of the guest rooms, or you can bunk with me.”

 

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Bruce asks mildly.

 

“I just thought you might like to finish what you started.”

 

“What _you_ started,” Bruce counters.

 

Tony looks at him, a little uncertain. “Were you not interested? Because sleeping with me isn’t a term of you staying here, although it would be a nice perk.”

 

Bruce takes a sip of his drink, not replying immediately. Tony’s beginning to wonder if he’s lost his mojo, or if he’d been misreading the signs entirely.

 

He wonders how well he even knows Bruce, who seems even less inclined to let Tony in now that they’re no longer stuck in the cave together.

 

Bruce looks away. “A man came to see me today. He knew who I was, and he knew what had happened to you, about the arc reactor.”

 

“Who was he?” Tony asks.

 

“Agent Coulson, from the Strategic Homeland—something.” Bruce shrugs. “He said they could keep the Army off my back.”

 

Tony frowns. “I told you I’d do that.”

 

“Two heads may be better than one, in this case,” Bruce points out. He crosses over to the bank of windows, looking out over the ocean. “And maybe they’ll keep each other busy, and we’ll stay safe.”

 

“ _We_ , huh?” Tony asks, still not approaching, waiting to see what Bruce will do.

 

Bruce turns to look at him. “I have one condition if we’re going to sleep together.”

 

“Name it,” Tony replies immediately.

 

“If I say stop, you stop, immediately,” Bruce says seriously, his expression grim.

 

Tony frowns. “What do you think I am?”

 

Bruce winces. “Sorry, that…that came out wrong. I haven’t done anything since the accident. I don’t know how I’m going to react. But if I get too close to the edge, I need you to pull back without asking any questions.”

 

Tony relaxes a little. “Okay, fair enough. Much as I like the Hulk, I’m not sure he’d be an ideal bed partner.”

 

“Is it a deal?” Bruce asks.

 

“Deal,” Tony replies immediately, closing the distance between them.

 

Bruce tastes of whiskey, and a little like the chicken sandwich he’d eaten when Tony had gotten his cheeseburgers. Bruce’s free hand pushes at Tony’s suit jacket, and Tony takes half a step back, plucking the glass out of Bruce’s hand.

 

“I think we need two hands for this,” Tony says, putting the glasses down and shrugging out of his jacket, tossing it in the general direction of the couch.

 

Bruce pulls Tony’s tie free and drops it on the floor. “I hope you have supplies.”

 

“Bedroom,” Tony replies.

 

He leads the way, and when he turns, Bruce already has his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a broad, leanly muscled chest.

 

And they’ve shared close quarters for the last three months, so it’s not like Tony hasn’t seen Bruce naked already, but it’s different now. Tony hadn’t been planning to sleep with the man then.

 

There hadn’t been the privacy for it, and now there is, and his mouth is dry with want.

 

“Right down to business,” Tony remarks with a smirk.

 

“I figure we had three months to get to know each other,” Bruce replies, dropping his shirt on the floor, and slipping off his shoes. “And maybe you didn’t understand when I said that I haven’t had sex with anybody since the accident.”

 

Tony begins to undress. “How long?”

 

“Long enough to be impatient,” Bruce replies, and drops his pants, revealing that he’s not wearing anything underneath.

 

“I think I can work with that,” Tony says.

 

Bruce is the one who reaches for Tony this time, his hands landing on Tony’s waist, and then running up his sides.

 

Tony moves them both back towards the bed, pushing Bruce down on the mattress, but gently.

 

“Pants,” Bruce says, his voice hoarse and needy.

 

“Right. Pants.” Tony finishes stripping, and throws himself on the bed next to Bruce, who immediately straddles his waist, pinning him to the bed.

 

“I think this will work better if I’m in charge,” Bruce says with a smile.

 

Tony finds that incredibly hot. “Sure. Whatever you want. You’re in charge.”

 

Bruce slots their hips together, still holding Tony down. “We can get more ambitious some other night,” he promises. “Or maybe later tonight.”

 

Tony’s gone through a long dry spell, and Bruce’s is even longer, so neither of them last long. They just rub off on each other, with Bruce’s hands tight around Tony’s wrists, and Tony whines, “Come on, Bruce, let me kiss you. Come on.”

 

Bruce bends his head, his mouth hard and hungry against Tony’s, nipping at Tony’s bottom lip, and his jaw, and his throat, before returning for another kiss.

 

This time, he releases Tony’s arms, and Tony pulls him close, threading his fingers through Bruce’s hair, wrapping his other arm around Bruce’s waist, pulling him close.

 

And for the first time in a long time, Tony doesn’t want to let go.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce wakes slowly, his right arm pinned down by a heavy weight, someone else’s arm draped across his waist. The room is dark, but Tony’s face is lit eerily by the arc reactor.

 

Tony is apparently using Bruce’s arm as a pillow, and Bruce tries to pull free.

 

“Mmph,” Tony mutters. “No.”

 

“Off,” Bruce replies, pushing at him. “My arm is falling asleep.”

 

Tony lifts his head enough for Bruce to move his arm, but he doesn’t let Bruce go. “Jarvis, what time is it?”

 

“It’s just past 7 am, sir,” Jarvis replies. “Shall I start the coffee?”

 

“God bless Pepper,” Tony mutters. “Yeah, J. Get a pot started.”

 

Bruce gives into the impulse to run his hand through Tony’s hair. “Is your whole house automated?”

 

“Not quite,” Tony replies. “But near enough. Jarvis can’t create something out of nothing, but stock up on coffee beans, and he can brew a mean cup of coffee. Shower?”

 

“God, yes,” Bruce says, since they’d only had a quick wash the night before.

 

Everything about Tony’s house is palatial, a hedonist’s dream, from the huge bed—Bruce suspects it’s a custom job—to the shower that’s as big as some of the homes Bruce had been in over the last year.

 

The opulence makes him uncomfortable in a way that squalor and poverty never had, but Bruce supposes that it’s all what you’re used to, and he’s certainly not used to wealth, not on Tony’s scale.

 

“Pepper should have clothing for you in the guest room down the hall,” Tony says as Bruce is drying off. “See if it fits, and we can order something else if that won’t suit.”

 

Bruce feels a little odd, wearing clothes that Tony’s assistant had purchased for him, but the khakis and blue button-down are just a little big, and pretty much exactly what Bruce would have chosen for himself.

 

“I would have picked something a little flashier,” Tony comments as he enters the room behind Bruce a few minutes later.

 

Bruce buttons his cuffs. “How the hell did she know?”

 

“It’s Pepper,” Tony replies. “This is what she does.”

 

Bruce just shakes his head. The only time he’d ever had an assistant, he’d rarely been on time, and Bruce had needed to redo half his work. And Bruce hadn’t asked him for so much as a cup of coffee outside of lab-related activities.

 

“So, look, you can do whatever you like, but I need to work on an upgrade for this,” Tony says, tapping the arc reactor through his t-shirt. “I think I can do better.”

 

Bruce nods. “How much power do you think you used up?”

 

“It would probably work for the rest of my life, but not if I put strain on it,” Tony says.

 

Bruce meets Tony’s eyes. “You’re going to build another suit.”

 

“That’s the idea,” Tony replies with a grin. “And a better arc reactor. Clean energy, Bruce. That’s the future.”

 

It’s 180 degrees different from what Stark Industries had been doing, but Bruce has seen Tony’s genius for himself, and he doesn’t doubt that Tony has the ability to make the change.

 

“So, why were you making weapons in the first place?” Bruce asks, following Tony out to the kitchen area, where he can smell the coffee.

 

Tony frowns. “Why do you want to know?”

 

“Because you built the arc reactor from spare parts in a cave in Afghanistan,” Bruce replies with genuine curiosity. “Because no one has made a breakthrough in clean energy like that in—I don’t know how long.”

 

Tony gives him a look, like he’s not sure he can take Bruce’s question seriously, or like he’s not sure why Bruce is asking, and he says, “Because I really did believe I was making the world a safer place building weapons.” He pauses, and then adds, “And because that’s what Stark Industries had been doing for decades.”

 

“Plus, there’s money in military contracts,” Bruce observes, pouring a cup of coffee for himself when Tony hands him a mug. “I know. It’s a big part of why I agreed to work for the Army on gamma radiation.”

 

Tony seems to relax a bit when he realizes that Bruce isn’t judging him, and that he’s just curious. “That too,” he admits. “I know there aren’t going to be many people who understand why I’m doing this.”

 

“Not without going public with the arc reactor in your chest,” Bruce agrees, “and it’s probably for the best to keep that quiet right now.”

 

“Glad you agree,” Tony says. “So, are you in, or do you want the space to work on your own thing?”

 

The only “thing” Bruce can think of working on is a way to get rid of the Other Guy, and he doesn’t think that Tony would have the biomedical equipment necessary.

 

Plus, he gave up on that a year ago, after his last failure. He has no desire to get his hopes up, only to see them dashed again.

 

“I’m in,” Bruce says. “But I think we should probably eat something first.”

 

Tony frowns. “Well, Pepper did say she stocked the kitchen, but I have no idea what’s here. There might be some cereal, or—”

 

Bruce smirks. “Good thing I have a good idea of how well you can cook. Sit. I’ll see what I can find.”

 

There’s bread and eggs, and Bruce finds syrup, milk, and fruit, so he sets about making French toast.

 

Tony’s digging into the first batch when Pepper walks in. “Okay, I know I smell food, and nothing is burning, but…” She trails off. “Good morning, Tony. Bruce, you cook.”

 

“Self-defense, mostly,” he says. “Are you hungry?”

 

Pepper appears slightly taken aback. “Well…yes.”

 

“I’ll make more,” Bruce replies.

 

He has to admit that he’s trying to get on Pepper’s good side, because it seems prudent. Clearly, Pepper is highly involved in Tony’s life, and Bruce is going to be part of Tony’s life for the next month, and he’s not above buttering her up.

 

There is always the possibility that Bruce won’t last that long—either because things go south, or because Tony gets tired of having him around—but Bruce has learned to plan for the best and expect the worst.

 

Pepper takes a bite and smiles. “This is very good.”

 

“Bruce was the one who kept me fed,” Tony says. “If it weren’t from him, I probably would have starved to death.”

 

“I doubt that,” Bruce replies, sitting down with his own meal. “But it probably helped that I can cobble together a meal when I need to.”

 

Pepper gives Bruce a considering look, and Bruce suspects that she’s taking his measure, figuring out whether he might be able to help look after Tony. There’s part of Bruce that wants to tell her that he’s been looking after Tony for months now, but he also wants to say that she’ll have Tony back, all to herself, in a few weeks.

 

He says nothing, just smiles pleasantly, and Pepper keeps her faintly puzzled expression.

 

“I have a few things for you to sign, Tony,” Pepper says. “And some other matters to go over.”

 

Bruce wanders off while they talk, Tony protesting, and Pepper insisting, the dynamic feeling familiar. He suspects it’s their way of getting reacquainted.

 

He stands in front of the windows, looking out over the ocean. A week ago, they had been holed up in a cave, under primitive conditions, and today, they’re here in Malibu, surrounded by cutting edge technology and luxury that’s beyond Bruce’s wildest dreams.

 

There is a certain pleasure to be had from just _looking_ at beautiful scenery, with a full stomach and no fear that something or someone will start shooting at him—or try to eat him.

 

“Pepper, I’ve been away for a while, and I need to get busy,” Tony protests. “Surely some of this can wait.”

 

“You’ve been gone for _three months_ ,” Pepper says severely. “Work piles up!”

 

“Exactly!” Tony says.

 

“Why don’t you show me to your lab,” Bruce suggests, turning from the windows. “I can start looking at the schematics, and get started on your thing.”

 

Pepper frowns. “What thing?”

 

“The arc reactor,” Tony says. “Bruce is helping me out.”

 

Pepper hesitates, and then says, “Go ahead.”

 

Tony shows Bruce downstairs, and keys in a code to the touchpad, which Bruce memorizes. “I hope you caught that,” Tony says.

 

Bruce smiles. “You don’t have to show me twice.”

 

Tony’s workshop is a treasure trove of fancy cars, robots, and machinery; Bruce had been right in thinking that there’s little here that could help him in his own, independent pursuits. “Jarvis, whatever Dr. Banner needs,” Tony says. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

 

Bruce sits down in front of Tony’s computer and closes his eyes, calling to mind everything he can remember about the arc reactor, and something strikes him.

 

“Jarvis, is there a way to run a simulation program while I’m rebuilding the schematics for the arc reactor?” Bruce asks.

 

“Of course, Dr. Banner,” Jarvis replies. “I am capable of running a multitude of tasks at once.”

 

“Do a simulation on the effects of long-term palladium exposure on the human body,” Bruce says. “And once I’ve got the schematics entered in, take those into consideration.”

 

It’s a hunch, and when they’d been in the cave, it hadn’t even been that much, but at least for the next month, Bruce is _with_ Tony, and he’s going to do everything he can to keep him in one piece.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony knows he needs to talk to Rhodey and explain if nothing else.

 

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Bruce asks, clear reluctance in his voice.

 

“No, I think it’s better if you don’t come,” Tony replies. “No offense, but I’d rather not tempt the military.”

 

Bruce smiles. “I can find something to work on around here. Good luck with Colonel Rhodes.”

 

Tony nods. “Thanks.”

 

He makes the drive to Los Angeles AFB alone, and it feels strange. He hasn’t been alone in months. Tony had been used to being around people—a lot of people—before Afghanistan.

 

But now—now, Tony’s not used to being alone, but in a different way. He’s grown used to having Bruce with him all the time, and the passenger seat seems empty without him.

 

Bruce has had his back for months, and the separation feels odd.

 

That’s new, and it’s definitely not typical of him, but Tony’s not going to question it. Bruce had kept him alive, and now he’s keeping Tony on an even keel.

 

He finds Rhodey lecturing a group of pilots about the importance of having a real person in the cockpit.

 

Tony finds Rhodey’s speech somewhat ironic, given what he’s planning. He plans on being the pilot in the suit of armor, to put his brain behind the controls.

 

He can’t resist the urge to suggest the young pilots ask Rhodey about Spring Break of 1987, and Rhodey laughs, like Tony had known he would.

 

“What are you doing here?” Rhodey asks once he’s dismissed the others. “I didn’t think I’d see you walking around so soon.”

 

“Oh, I’m doing a lot better than walking,” Tony says. “I’m working on something big, Rhodey.”

 

Rhodey grins. “Good to know. After that little stunt at the press conference, I thought maybe you’d gone right off the deep end.”

 

“I’m not working on something for the military,” Tony says quietly. “I’m not making weapons now. I’m working on something bigger. I just need a little time, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

 

“No,” Rhodey says fiercely. “ _You_ need to get your mind right. That Banner guy has you all turned around.”

 

“It didn’t take Bruce to show me that my weapons wound up in the hands of terrorists,” Tony replies, just as fiercely. He knows he’s in the right, and while it stings to have Rhodey doubt him, he has Bruce in his corner. “Bruce saved my life.”

 

“I know who and what he is now,” Rhodey replies. “And I can’t help but think that you weren’t like this until you met Banner.”

 

Tony frowns. “This has nothing to do with Bruce. If he left tomorrow, I’d still feel this way. I’m not going to make weapons again, Rhodey.”

 

Rhodey takes a step back. “Be careful, Tony. You know what people are going to say about you being with Banner. They’re going to say you’re crazy because you’re associating with him.”

 

“You think that’s going to change anything?” Tony demands. “I told you: _Bruce saved my life_. I’m not ditching him.”

 

Rhodey throws up his hands in disgust. “He’s dangerous!”

 

“So am I!” Tony snaps. “I’ve got more blood on my hands than he does.”

 

“Then I hope you’re very happy together,” Rhodey replies and stalks off.

 

He’s mad because Tony isn’t making weapons anymore, and he’s probably mad because it looks like Tony is eschewing his duty for sex. Rhodey has always hated that.

 

But it hurts, because Rhodey is his oldest friend, and Tony wishes he’d understand—or at least try to understand.

 

He heads home, stopping for burgers on the way, even though he knows they’ll be cold by the time he gets back.

 

Bruce is still in the workshop when Tony arrives, typing away. “Hey, how did it go?” he asks as soon as Tony gets out of the car.

 

Tony sets the grease-stained bag on the counter. “I brought burgers and fries. They’re probably mostly cold by now.”

 

Bruce grimaces. “That bad, huh? Did he think you were crazy for keeping me around?”

 

“He thinks I’m crazy for not making weapons anymore,” Tony replies lightly. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

 

“To be perfectly honest, I think you’re lying,” Bruce says. “But thanks for that.”

 

“I may have known Rhodey for a long time, but he wasn’t the one who saved my life in that cave, and he doesn’t have breathtaking anger management issues,” Tony says, because he can’t give up on _them_ , and he can’t give up on changing the way Stark Industries does business.

 

Bruce smiles briefly. “We all have our strengths.”

 

“What were you working on?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “Nothing much. I just thought I’d see if I could find a way to improve the flight stabilizers.”

 

Tony suspects that isn’t the _only_ thing Bruce had been working on, but he lets it go. He’s not about to confirm that Rhodey thinks Bruce’s presence is key to Tony’s decision not to work on weapons, mostly because he doesn’t think Rhodey’s opinion would be different if Bruce weren’t around.

 

Rhodey, after all, still believes that weapons save lives; Tony now knows better.

 

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Tony says, and he pushes aside the hurt to focus on the problem at hand.

 

At least he still has Bruce and Pepper.

 

~~~~~

 

Pepper flips the TV off in disgust. The news has been overwhelmingly negative over the last week, and she’s getting sick of it.

 

The public reaction to Tony’s return has vacillated between jubilation over the apparent triumph of the American innovator over the terrorists, to certainty that he had somehow been corrupted _by_ said terrorists, to insistence that he’s lost his mind, or is suffering from a form of PTSD.

 

And maybe he is, Pepper thinks. She can’t imagine why he _wouldn’t_ be, but she’d seen no sign that he was insane. In fact, he seemed more focused than ever.

 

With that thought, Pepper turns off the TV and heads downstairs, knowing that if the last week is any indication, she’ll find Bruce and Tony together.

 

Sure enough, Tony is in a chair, with electrodes hooked up to his bare chest, and Bruce is checking the readouts. “Look, if you can’t do this—” Tony says as Pepper keys in her code to the door.

 

“I can do this,” Bruce replies irritably. “Remember who put the electromagnet in your chest to begin with?”

 

“Yeah, but you had my chest cracked open at the time,” Tony replies. “Oh, look, Pepper! She has small hands.”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Pepper, do you have any desire to stick your hand into Tony’s chest cavity?”

 

“I really don’t,” she replies definitively.

 

“Then Tony will have to let me do this in my own time,” Bruce says. “Stick around if you like.”

 

“Is this going to be gross?” Pepper asks suspiciously.

 

“Not for you,” Bruce replies with a wry smile. “Just sit tight, Tony.”

 

Pepper watches as Bruce turns the glowing circle in Tony’s chest until it clicks, lifting it out slowly.

 

“Careful,” Tony warns him.

 

Bruce looks up from what he’s doing. “I know you want to micromanage me right now because you really don’t want to die, but please trust that I have kept you alive this long; I’m not about to let anything happen to you now.”

 

Tony raises his hands, as though in surrender. “Do your worst.”

 

“You’d better be grateful that I always do my best,” Bruce replies.

 

Pepper watches as Bruce pulls the old device free and sets it aside. “All right,” Bruce says. “Easy. I’m going to do this very quickly.”

 

“Just don’t kill me,” Tony says.

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Not until you write me into your will at least.”

 

Tony lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, sure, as soon as you manage to not kill me.”

 

Bruce pulls out a wire carefully, complete with a metal ring at one end. The alarms on the heart monitors start going off, and Pepper asks, “Is that a problem?”

 

“Only if I don’t move fast enough,” Bruce says wryly, setting aside the wire with its metal ring. He lifts a new model of the device, looking almost exactly like the one he’d just pulled out of Tony’s chest. “And by the way, we should probably look into this discharge.”

 

“It’s inorganic!” Tony protests.

 

“Also, it smells, and if you’re going to make an arc reactor that powers devices or entire cities, like you want, you’re going to have to solve that problem,” Bruce says bluntly. One hand has disappeared into the metal socket inserted into Tony’s chest as he tries to attach the new device.

 

Pepper moves closer out of sheer curiosity. Bruce pulls his hand out and clicks the new device into place.

 

Tony lets out a breath. “Well done.”

 

“I do know what I’m doing,” Bruce replies, reaching for a rag to wipe off his hand. “How do you feel?”

 

“Good as new,” Tony replies.

 

Pepper reaches out to touch the old device. “Was this the thing that was keeping you alive?”

 

“The old model,” Tony says dismissively, picking up his t-shirt. “It’s obsolete now.”

 

“What are you going to do with it?” Pepper asks.

 

Tony shrugs carelessly. “Get rid of it. Destroy it. I don’t care.”

 

“You don’t want to keep it?” she asks.

 

“People have called me many things, but nostalgic is not one of them,” Tony says dismissively.

 

Bruce meets her eyes with a conspiratorial smile and a nod, and Pepper picks up the old device, knowing that she won’t throw it away. Tony might not be nostalgic, but she is a bit.

 

“What are you working on?” Pepper asks.

 

“Besides this?” Tony asks, tapping the circle glowing under his t-shirt. “Right now, this is the only thing I’m working on.”

 

Pepper sighs, wishing she could leave it there. “The stock is dropping more than we anticipated.”

 

“Stark Industries can take it,” Tony replies.

 

Pepper frowns. “It _can_ , but the board is going to meet soon, and they may not _want_ to take it.”

 

“I’ve got bigger fish to fry,” Tony says glibly.

 

“ _Tony_ ,” Pepper says.

 

“I think I’m going to make lunch,” Bruce says diplomatically. “Pepper, are you hungry?”

 

Pepper smiles. “Can we keep you?”

 

“Exactly my thought,” Tony says.

 

Bruce snorts. “Sandwiches in ten.”

 

Pepper watches him go, and when she’s sure he’s upstairs, she asks, “Are you sleeping with him?”

 

“I didn’t think that’s what we were discussing,” Tony objects.

 

“We’re discussing it now,” Pepper insists. “Because I like him, I think he’s good for you, and if you’re just going to kick him out in a couple of days, I’d like to know about it so I can arrange something. Like maybe marrying him myself.”

 

Tony laughs and rubs his eyes. “He promised me a month, Pep. I’m trying not to plan on longer than that.”

 

Pepper blinks. “ _You_ are planning on a month?”

 

“I’ve had him for three months,” Tony says irritably. “And I want to keep him.”

 

“You know it doesn’t always work like that,” Pepper replies gently.

 

“Which is why I’m not counting on more than a month,” Tony replies with finality. “Now, what were you saying?”

 

Pepper sighs. “I’m trying to tell you that people are saying you’re insane, that you were damaged, and you haven’t given them reason to believe otherwise.”

 

“So, what if I am?” Tony challenges. “I was tortured, they threatened to torture Bruce right in front of me, and I think I’m allowed to fucking change!”

 

Pepper wants to reach out, but she has no idea how, or what to say. Tony seems beyond her reach right now, locked in his own memories, which Bruce shares and she doesn’t.

 

“I’m not saying you can’t change,” Pepper replies. “I’m saying that you need to, I don’t know, _talk_ about it.”

 

Tony frowns. “Do you know what I saw when I first woke up? The _first_ thing I saw?”

 

Pepper shakes her head. “No.”

 

“I saw Bruce. And right after that, I saw _my_ guns in the hands of terrorists,” Tony replies with heat. “They had _crates_ of weapons from Stark Industries, and I never want to see that again. The only way I can guarantee that is if we don’t _make_ weapons anymore.”

 

Pepper feels a pang, thinking about what he must have experienced at their hands. “Okay, I get it,” she says. “But the rest of the world doesn’t. Maybe that’s what you should tell them.”

 

Tony shakes his head. “I don’t—I can’t. This is my company, Pepper. I get to decide how it goes, and what we make, and I say we don’t make weapons. End of story.”

 

Pepper knows that tone, and it means Tony won’t listen to arguments. She doesn’t blame him, but she also knows that the fallout is just beginning.

 

“What are they saying about Bruce?” Tony asks.

 

“Nothing, so far,” Pepper replies. “I’ve caught a few rumors, but nothing that’s going to cause a problem for us.”

 

Tony nods. “Good. He won’t stay if he thinks there’s a risk to me.”

 

“Tony, why is the Army after him?” Pepper asks.

 

Tony hesitates. “I don’t—”

 

“I can’t protect him if I don’t know what I’m protecting him from,” Pepper says firmly.

 

Tony hesitates. “Jarvis, what have you got from those files I asked you to hack?”

 

“I have everything you asked for, sir,” Jarvis replies.

 

“Send it to Miss Potts’ tablet,” Tony orders. “Just—keep in mind that he saved my life twice over, and that—well, you’ll see when you view the information. But it seems that if Bruce likes you, you’ll be safe enough.”

 

Pepper has no idea what he means, but she has no intention of alienating Bruce, if only because he’s the first person in a long time to whom Tony has formed an attachment.

 

“Dr. Banner wanted me to inform you that lunch is ready,” Jarvis says.

 

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Tony replies. “You coming?”

 

“Right behind you,” Pepper replies. She’s curious about the additional information on Bruce, but now doesn’t seem to be the time.

 

She’ll look at it later, and she’ll do what she can to placate the board, because she has a little better understanding of where Tony’s coming from now.

 

~~~~~

 

“Did you tell Pepper?”

 

Tony looks up from his holographic model of the first suit they’d created. “Tell Pepper what?”

 

“About the Other Guy,” Bruce says. “And I guess about us.”

 

“She guessed about us,” Tony admits, going back to his model. “And I gave her the information I had. Pepper made a very good point about needing to know what she’s protecting you from if she’s going to keep you safe.”

 

Bruce is silent for so long that Tony raises his head. “Was that not okay? Did I cross some line that I didn’t know about? I mean, I get why you hid it from me, but Pepper’s like the other half of my brain, you know.”

 

Bruce shifts uncomfortably, wrapping his hands around his mug of coffee. “I’m just not used to it, to people knowing.” He pauses. “How did Pepper react?”

 

“She didn’t say anything,” Tony replies. “Good or bad.”

 

Bruce looks away, and Tony can see his throat work as he swallows. “Right.”

 

“I can ask,” Tony offers.

 

“No,” Bruce says immediately. “No, don’t do that.”

 

“Because I can be subtle,” Tony says.

 

Bruce smirks. “You?”

 

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Tony teases.

 

Bruce shrugs. “I know you.”

 

“I wouldn’t have told her if I didn’t think she’d be cool about it,” Tony replies, trying to sound reassuring.

 

“There aren’t a lot of people who are ‘cool’ about this,” Bruce says with a bitter twist of his mouth.

 

“Wait until you get to know Pepper better,” Tony promises. “So, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?”

 

“It looks like you’re doing fine on your own,” Bruce says. “You’ve got your ‘bots to help you.”

 

And Tony wants to keep Bruce around, which is probably the only reason he hears the unhappiness in Bruce’s voice.

 

“All right, fine,” Tony says, making a small change to the hologram of the suit. “You’re right. I could do this on my own, but I don’t want to. Do you know how many people I’ve invited to share space with me?”

 

“I couldn’t begin to guess,” Bruce replies dryly.

 

Tony gives him a sharp look. “None.”

 

A strange expression crosses Bruce’s face. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah, oh,” Tony says impatiently. “So, if you don’t want to work on my stuff, you can work on yours. I’ve got spare computers, and I can get whatever other equipment you need.”

 

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

 

“Or we could just have sex,” Tony says in response to the blatant invitation. “If that keeps you happy.”

 

“I’m used to being needed,” Bruce admits. “I’m used to being busy.”

 

“Busy with what?” Tony asks. “Saving lives?”

 

“Don’t mock me,” Bruce replies, a dangerous note in his voice.

 

Tony frowns. “I wasn’t. I was honestly curious. Busy with what? I know what I’m usually doing all day, but I don’t know you that well, for all that we _know_ each other.”

 

Real humor quirks Bruce’s lips up. “Finding food. Finding shelter. Finding people who need what little doctoring I can provide.”

 

“Seek, and ye shall find,” Tony replies. “Speaking of, what do you want, Bruce? Because I’m prepared to give it to you.”

 

Tony knows he’s crossed a line when Bruce freezes up, staring down at his hands, clasped around his mug. It’s too much, too fast, and Tony’s known for that.

 

But then, Bruce probably _wouldn’t_ know, because he’d been living under a rock.

 

“Or, just—I don’t know,” Tony says. “Tell me what you’d rather do.”

 

“I don’t know,” Bruce says, some of his frustration showing through. “God, Tony, what you’re offering. Do you even get it?”

 

Tony pushes back from the hologram and turns to face Bruce fully. “No, honestly, I don’t. But I’m listening.”

 

“I used to have a lab,” Bruce says, setting his mug down with a little more force than strictly necessary. “Defense contracts, contacts, all of it. I didn’t have the mansion or the fantastic assistant or the fancy cars,” and he waves at the cars, “but I had enough. Did you know I had a girlfriend?”

 

“I didn’t,” Tony says, although Bruce had mentioned a woman. But since this is more than Bruce has ever said about his past life, he says nothing more than that.

 

“I had _everything_ , and I pissed it all away because of my fucking ego,” Bruce says, and gone is the mild-mannered doctor Tony remembers, and he feels strangely honored by that, by the fact that Bruce can let go with him.

 

Bruce had spent three months showing very little emotion, and now he’s letting down his hair, so to speak.

 

When Tony doesn’t reply, Bruce asks, “Well, are you going to say anything?”

 

“What do you want me to say?” Tony demands. “No, really, what do you want me to say? I’m the guy who probably supplied the Army with the weapons they used against you, and I supplied terrorists, and I probably have more blood on my hands than you could ever hope to match. So what do I do with that?”

 

“I don’t know,” Bruce confesses, his shoulders slumping. “Shit, Tony, I don’t know.”

 

Tony frowns. “Come here.”

 

Bruce hesitates, but then he finally walks over to Tony. “Okay, now what?”

 

“Here,” Tony says, tugging Bruce so he’s standing between Tony and the hologram. “Look at it, and tell me what you see.”

 

“You don’t need me to do that,” Bruce protests.

 

“No, maybe not,” Tony agrees. “But you wanted something to do, and I’m giving it to you. I want to get confirmation that my instincts are right.”

 

Tony doesn’t need confirmation, but he’ll do whatever he can to make Bruce feel like he’s needed; he just wishes that Bruce would name equipment that he needs or something like that. Tony can obtain equipment. He just has to figure out what kind.

 

He makes a note to do some research into what a nuclear physicist would need to keep him happy—or to have Jarvis do the research and keep it quiet.

 

Tony settles his hands on Bruce’s waist, and to his relief, Bruce discards the same parts of the armor that Tony had already settled on revamping.

 

“You don’t have to do this,” Bruce says in a low voice.

 

“I don’t think you have any idea what I’m capable of doing,” Tony replies, pressing his lips to the back of Bruce’s neck. “Because I mean to keep you.”

 

Bruce doesn’t reply, but he does press back against Tony, and Tony thinks his point might be well taken.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce watches as Tony adjusts the forearm brace and repulsor. “You sure you don’t want a hand?”

 

“I’ll need a hand for the other one,” Tony replies. “I’ll have to play with the power so I can get precision when I’m flying.”

 

“You’ll have to practice,” Bruce says. “And if you crash into something, I’m probably going to laugh at you before I patch you up.”

 

Tony grins. “I knew I kept you around for some reason.”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. Aside from the argument the other day, it’s been remarkably easy to fall into a routine with Tony, who has made a serious effort to ensure that Bruce is included in the work.

 

He knows Tony doesn’t work with other people, generally speaking, because Tony has said as much. They’re still getting a feel for one another in this new place.

 

Well, new to Bruce, and new to _them_ , if not new to Tony. Bruce knows enough about living with someone to know that’s a different thing altogether.

 

“Go play with your new toy,” Tony orders with a smirk.

 

“I don’t know what you’re going to do with it when I’m gone,” Bruce complains, although there are colleges that would purchase the 3-D gamma imager in a heartbeat, even used.

 

“Sell it on eBay,” Tony suggests casually. “Wait for you to come back and use it again, or maybe you’ll decide to stay.”

 

“Wait for me to come back?” Bruce asks. He expects the flippant comment about eBay, and even the suggestion that Bruce might stay, but not that.

 

Tony shrugs. “You’ll always have a place here. Even if you have to leave, you’ll have a place to come back to.”

 

That’s probably one of the nicest offers Bruce has had in years, but he knows better than to say as much. Tony hates it when someone points out his generosity. “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Tony replies. “I’ll be putting you to work.”

 

Bruce smiles, knowing that’s just Tony’s way of saying he’ll do his best to keep Bruce around.

 

“Hello, boys,” Pepper announces as she enters the lab, carrying a large platter with a couple of cups of coffee and a box wrapped in brown paper. “Tony, you know the meeting with the Board of Directors is tomorrow. Obadiah requests your presence.”

 

“He told me to lay low,” Tony protests

 

“I think it would do them good to see you,” Pepper replies. “See that you’re not traumatized.”

 

Tony grimaces. “I can’t make that claim.”

 

“Then you can fake it,” Pepper argues. “You’ve taken the company in a completely different direction with no input from anyone else, and the stock has taken a considerable hit.”

 

“A hit we can afford,” Tony argues. They’ve had this argument already, and he hasn’t changed his mind. “Pep, this is about human lives; you can’t put a price tag on that.”

 

“Plenty of people do,” Bruce mutters, but only loud enough for Tony to hear him.

 

Tony shoots him a look.

 

“And you can spare the time to go to New York and put their minds at ease,” Pepper replies. “You should go.”

 

Tony seems to close down. “I can’t. Pepper, I can’t.”

 

Bruce aches to go to him, and after a moment, he gives into the impulse to put his hands on Tony’s shoulders, squeezing tightly, like he can somehow hold Tony together.

 

Tony leans back just slightly so he’s leaning into Bruce’s chest.

 

“Okay,” Pepper says immediately. “It’s okay. You don’t have to go. I’ll tell Obadiah that you’re not up for it.”

 

“Don’t tell him anything,” Tony orders. “Just say I’m unavailable.”

 

“You’re holed up in your lab,” Pepper protests.

 

“And therefore, unavailable,” Tony insists.

 

Bruce digs his thumbs into Tony’s shoulders, working at the tension he finds there.

 

“Okay,” Pepper agrees. “I’ll just tell him that you can’t go.”

 

“Thanks,” Tony replies, relief clear in his voice.

 

Pepper sighs. “You’re not giving me much to do, Tony.”

 

“You’ll have plenty to do once I get this done,” Tony says. He stands abruptly, shaking off Bruce’s hands. “I’m going to grab something. Be right back.”

 

That leaves Pepper alone with Bruce, who has no idea what to say to her, or how to acknowledge the fact that he might turn into the Other Guy with the right provocation.

 

“I saw the footage,” Pepper says bluntly once Tony is gone. “I know what happens when you get angry.”

 

Bruce looks away. “Yeah. Sorry.”

 

“What I can’t figure out is how you spent three months in a cave with Tony, and you didn’t get angry,” Pepper says. “Not until someone shot you.”

 

Bruce laughs before he can stop himself. “I have it under control most of the time.”

 

“You’re good for him, you know?” Pepper says quietly. “There aren’t a lot of people Tony wants to keep around, but you’re one of them. He likes you.”

 

Bruce suddenly realizes that this is a different talk than what he’d expected—this is the “if you hurt him, I’ll hurt you,” conversation. Bruce hasn’t been the target of that conversation in years. “I like Tony,” he admits.

 

“You spent three months with him, and in the end, you protected him,” Pepper says. “You helped him get out alive. I won’t forget that.”

 

Bruce understands what she’s saying, that she’s not going to mention the Other Guy, and she’s not going to hold it against him. She’ll look past it, because he had saved Tony’s life—or the Other Guy had.

 

Tony had been the first one who looked past the Other Guy, who had known what Bruce was and didn’t care. Pepper seems to be joining that short list.

 

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Bruce admits. “The exact opposite, in fact.”

 

“But you’re leaving,” Pepper replies.

 

Bruce suddenly feels uncomfortable. “I promised Tony a month; I never said I had to leave after that.”

 

“And if Tony wants you to stay?” Pepper asks. “If he asks you to stay?”

 

“Then I guess I will,” Bruce replies. “If it’s safe. I don’t want to put Tony in danger.”

 

Pepper’s expression goes soft and sympathetic. “Bruce. Let me handle the press, and the rest of it, okay? I’ll look after both of you.”

 

Bruce looks away. “Do you ever get tired of your job?”

 

“Well, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” Pepper replies. “I’ll help you however I can. What I now know doesn’t change anything.”

 

Bruce wants to say that the Other Guy changes _everything_ , but he doesn’t. He appreciates Pepper’s point. “Thanks.”

 

“I should be thanking you,” Pepper says.

 

“It seemed like the thing to do,” Bruce deflects.

 

He has no way to tell her that he’d thought about letting Tony die, and hadn’t been able to, or that he has so much blood on his hands already, he hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of not saving a life where possible.

 

“I’m glad you did what you did, and that you came back with him,” Pepper replies. “I think he’s better with you here.”

 

Bruce suspects that what she really means is that she’s glad to have someone else looking after Tony’s well being, and he doesn’t blame her for feeling that way. “I’ll do what I can with the time I have,” Bruce promises, which is as much as he can offer.

 

Pepper smiles. “I think that’s probably more than you think.”

 

Bruce glances at the package. “What’s that?”

 

“A present for Tony, and for you,” Pepper says. “You strike me as someone who might be a little sentimental.”

 

“Perhaps,” Bruce admits. “At least a little bit.”

 

“Well, then.” Pepper looks away. “I really am glad you’re here.”

 

Bruce nods. “Thanks.”

 

It’s strange to have people on his side, but it’s good. It feels good to know that there are people who care.

 

And Bruce has to admit, if only to himself, that it’s just one more reason to stay.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony knows that he should probably go to the board meeting, but he won’t. He knows it will be full of people, including Obie, demanding that he divulge details about his time in Afghanistan that he’s not ready to share.

 

Bruce gets that, and he’s giving Tony plenty of space, and Pepper seems to understand that, too.

 

Pepper understands him all too well, as the glass-encased arc reactor on his worktable demonstrates. It’s not something he would have done, or asked for, but he likes it, and he knows Bruce likes it. “I think we all knew you had a heart,” Bruce had murmured when he read the inscription.

 

“There are those who would argue with you,” Tony had replied.

 

“Mmm,” Bruce said, and had kissed him hard, which had shut down work on the new suit for a while.

 

Pepper enters the lab as Bruce finishes tightening the screw on the right gauntlet. Tony could have done it himself—he’s ambidextrous when it comes to tools—but watching Bruce work is hot, and it’s an excuse to be close.

 

“What is that?” Pepper asks. “I thought you weren’t making weapons anymore.”

 

“It’s not a weapon, it’s a flight stabilizer,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce snorts. “And also a weapon.”

 

“Okay, technically, it can be _used_ as a weapon,” Tony admits. “But that’s not its main function.”

 

Pepper glances at Bruce, as though for confirmation.

 

“What Tony said,” Bruce says. “What’s up?”

 

“Obadiah is upstairs,” Pepper says. “He just got back from the board meeting, and he wants to talk to you.”

 

Tony nods. “One minute. All right, Bruce, I think that should do it.”

 

“One second,” Bruce replies, and makes another adjustment. “Okay.”

 

He steps back as Tony raises his hand, moving over to stand next to Pepper. Tony hears a faint whine as the repulsor draws power from the arc reactor, and the resultant blast sends Tony flying backwards into the wall as Pepper ducks and Bruce swears.

 

“I didn’t expect that,” Tony says from his position on the floor.

 

Bruce offers him a hand up. “We’ll have to work on the control.”

 

“We’ll have time later,” Tony replies.

 

“I’ll wait upstairs,” Pepper says.

 

Bruce helps Tony remove the gauntlet. “You okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Tony replies. “Maybe a little bruised, but I promise I’ll let you put your hands all over me later.”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I don’t see how that’s going to help.”

 

“It will distract me from the pain,” Tony suggests with a leer.

 

“Maybe,” Bruce replies. “I think Obadiah is waiting for you.”

 

“You’re not coming up?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “You don’t need me there, and—” He stops suddenly. “Never mind. I have a couple of things I want to get done.”

 

Tony frowns. “You’re uncomfortable around Obie.”

 

“I don’t have any feelings about him one way or another,” Bruce replies neutrally. “I’ve met him once, and I don’t know him.”

 

Tony pulls back, stung. “But he makes you uncomfortable.”

 

“He believes that Stark Industries should be in the business of making weapons,” Bruce replies quietly. “And he strikes me as the sort of person who might look at the Other Guy as a weapon. It’s just a feeling, and I might be completely off base, but the fact remains that you don’t need me for this conversation.”

 

Tony nods tightly. “Fine. I’ll see you later.”

 

There’s a part of Tony that knows Bruce is right, having seen the signs of it when he’d introduced Obie to Bruce after the press conference. But Tony has known Obadiah his whole life, and he’s not entirely comfortable with the idea that Obie might be a threat to Bruce.

 

The pizza box from Ray’s is not a good omen.

 

“So, this is a bad sign,” Tony says, looking at Pepper.

 

Pepper shrugs.

 

Obie’s at the piano, which is another bad sign. “Just because I brought pizza back from New York doesn’t mean it went poorly.”

 

“Yes, it does,” Tony replies bluntly, grabbing a slice of pizza. He wonders if he can grab a piece for Bruce, too.

 

“Is Dr. Banner still around?” Obie asks.

 

Tony wonders if Obie is just delaying the inevitable, or if he really wants to know. “He’s working on his own thing right now,” Tony replies, because whether or not he agrees with Bruce’s misgivings, Tony will protect him.

 

“The board isn’t happy with the new direction the company is going,” Obie finally says, getting up and taking a seat next to Tony.

 

“Because the stock has dropped forty points?” Tony protests. “We knew that was going to happen.”

 

“Fifty six and a half,” Pepper inserts.

 

Tony turns to glare at her. “It doesn’t matter, because we own the controlling share in the company.”

 

“The board has rights, too, Tony,” Obie replies. “They’re claiming you have post-traumatic stress. They’re filing an injunction.”

 

“What?” Tony has never had the best relationship with the board, but he still feels betrayed. The company has his name, after all; he’s the one who has developed and designed most of the weapons that have made them their money. He’s being responsible. They should see that.

 

“They want to lock you out,” Obie adds.

 

Tony looks at Pepper, and sees no help there. He almost feels like she’s on the board’s side, which feels like another betrayal.

 

“I’m being responsible!” Tony protests. “They can’t be okay with putting our weapons in the hands of terrorists!”

 

“They’re saying it’s trauma,” Obie replies, like h’s trying to sooth Tony. “And Dr. Banner’s presence isn’t helping matters any.”

 

Tony stands up. “What about Bruce?”

 

“They know about him, Tony,” Obie says, and Tony wishes Obie would stop saying his name, like that’s going to make the news easier to digest. “They know what he can do. The fact that you’re friends with him makes them nervous. It makes them think you’ve gone off the deep end.”

 

“Bruce saved my life,” Tony snaps, feeling as though he’s become a broken record. “He’s a good man.”

 

“You have to see it from their point of view,” Obie argues.

 

“I don’t have to _see_ anything,” Tony replies. “It’s my company, and Bruce is my friend. I’m doing what I think is right.”

 

Obadiah stands up as well. “Let me give them something,” he says, looking at the glowing circle in Tony’s chest. “Let me have the engineers analyze that.”

 

“No,” Tony says, not liking the avidity in Obadiah’s eyes. “This one stays with me. I’ll be in the workshop.”

 

He thinks about grabbing the pizza but doesn’t, wanting out of there. He’ll figure out a way to feed Bruce later, when he’s sure Obadiah is gone.

 

Tony just wants to see Bruce, because he’s certain that he’s the one person on Tony’s side.

 

Bruce is fiddling with the gamma imager when Tony punches the code to get into the lab. “Is it safe to come out?” Bruce asks with a smile that drops off his face when he sees Tony’s face. “What happened?”

 

Tony already knows that he won’t tell Bruce that part of the reason the board wants to lock him out is Bruce’s presence. That won’t do any good. So, instead, he says, “Obadiah says the board is seeking an injunction. Something about me having post traumatic stress or trauma, or whatever.”

 

“You probably do,” Bruce replies lightly, turning his stool to face Tony fully. “Although I don’t think that’s a reason to keep you from directing the company.”

 

“Pepper and Obie wouldn’t agree with you,” Tony says.

 

Bruce stands. “That’s because they weren’t there like I was. They didn’t see what we saw.”

 

“You don’t think I’m crazy?” Tony asks, and hates that he has to ask the question.

 

“I think you’re one of the bravest people I know,” Bruce replies. “I think you saw something that needed to change, and you took steps to change it, at great personal cost. You might be crazy, but it’s not a bad thing.”

 

Tony looks away, undone by Bruce’s sincerity. “I need you to stick around.”

 

“Okay,” Bruce agrees quietly.

 

Tony had expected more of a fight. “Okay?”

 

“Okay.” Bruce wraps his arms around Tony in a tight hug. “It’s no hardship to stay, as long as you want me.”

 

Tony suspects that answer would be different if Bruce knew that his presence counted as evidence that Tony had gone off the deep end, but he has no intention of telling Bruce anything about that.

 

~~~~~

 

The new suit is a thing of beauty, even Bruce can admit that. The gold-tinted armor is as sleek as the last one was clunky. The ‘bots get Tony into the suit, and all Bruce can do is stand there and watch, awed.

 

“Jarvis, you there?” Tony asks, his voice a little tinny.

 

“At your service, sir,” Jarvis replies, and Bruce knows that Jarvis is using the speakers in the lab for Bruce’s benefit.

 

“Engage heads up display,” Tony orders. “And import all preferences from home interface.”

 

“Will do, sir,” Jarvis replies.

 

Bruce watches with a smile. “How does it feel?”

 

“Not sure yet,” Tony replies. “But it looks good—a lot better than the last one.”

 

“I’d hope so.”

 

Tony takes a couple of steps, and orders Jarvis to run through all the tests. Bruce watches as the surface check results in all the sections of the suit moving in turn. It’s a marvel of engineering, hard evidence of Tony’s genius.

 

“Ah, do me a favor and check the weather reports and ATC,” Tony begins.

 

Bruce frowns. “We have other checks to do before you can fly, Tony.”

 

“Sometimes you have to run before you can walk,” Tony replies. “Keep the home fires burning for me, huh?”

 

Bruce doesn’t like Tony’s recklessness—he’s learned caution the hard way—but he also knows that he has no hope of stopping him. “If you die, I’m never going to forgive you.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Tony promises. “I’ve got Jarvis as my co-pilot. Jarvis, broadcast to the workshop, and keep Bruce in the loop. Best I can do, Big Guy.”

 

Bruce sighs, well aware that this was always going to be what happened. “Good luck. _Don’t_ break a leg.”

 

Tony laughs and fires up the repulsors. He’s a little shaky right at first, but he zooms out of the garage with a whoop of joy.

 

Bruce sits in front of the computer, which gives him readouts of Tony’s position, and what’s going on with the suit. The data looks good, within expected parameters, but Bruce is still nervous.

 

He’s not used to being afraid for someone else’s safety when it’s not the Other Guy that’s the threat. In Afghanistan, Bruce had been on hand, and even though he’d known he might not be able to do much, he’d still been there.

 

If anything goes wrong with the suit now, Bruce won’t be anywhere nearby.

 

“Can I talk to Tony?” Bruce asks.

 

“Of course, Dr. Banner,” Jarvis replies. “Just speak normally, and I will transmit.”

 

“I can hear you just fine,” Tony says, laughing. “Bruce, you have _got_ to try this!”

 

Tony’s joy is infectious, and Bruce smiles. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. The Other Guy would rip through that suit in no time.”

 

“You’ve got it under control,” Tony argues, and whoops again. The computer display shows that he’d just put on speed. “God, this is fun.”

 

Bruce grins, although he feels it slip when Tony asks, “Hey, Jarvis, what’s the record for the SR-71?”

 

“The altitude record for a fixed wing flight is 85,000 feet, sir,” Jarvis responds.

 

“Tony, no,” Bruce protests immediately. “We don’t know how the suit will do in higher altitudes.”

 

“Never know until you try,” Tony crows. “Let’s see what this baby can do.”

 

Seconds later, Jarvis says, “There’s a dangerous amount of ice forming on the suit, sir.”

 

Tony doesn’t reply, and Jarvis says, “Sir? Dr. Banner, I believe we’ve lost transmission.”

 

“That idiot,” Bruce mutters. “Can you reboot?”

 

“Not as of yet. The ice is interfering with the communications system. I will keep trying.”

 

Bruce scrubs a hand over his face. “Great. You do that. And when he gets back, I’m going to kill him myself.”

 

The seconds tick by agonizingly slowly, and Bruce wonders if he’s going to be scraping up what’s left of Tony from the sidewalk.

 

“Contact reestablished,” Jarvis announces, and Tony hollers with glee.

 

Bruce buries his face in his hands, then runs a hand through his hair. It’s probably a bad idea for him to kill Tony; Pepper would be upset. Bruce would have to look for a new place to live.

 

He will probably never find anybody who likes the Other Guy just as much as he likes Bruce.

 

Bruce jumps when he hears a crash, and Tony falls through the floor to land on one of his very expensive cars. Dum-E sprays Tony with the fire extinguisher, and Bruce probably would have laughed his ass off if he hadn’t been so worried.

 

Tony’s head drops back, and Bruce hears him groan.

 

“Are you hurt?” Bruce asks.

 

“I’m fine,” Tony replies. “I probably should have expected that.”

 

“Given the weight of your suit, yeah, probably,” Bruce agrees. “Do you need a hand?”

 

“Maybe in a minute.”

 

Bruce doesn’t reply. He’s not going to say anything until he can look Tony in the eye.

 

After a minute, Tony begins to move, rolling off the car and walking towards Bruce. The same ‘bots that got Tony into the armor also help him get out, although it takes a little doing.

 

But once Tony’s free of the armor, Bruce advances on him. “You’re an idiot,” he says fiercely.

 

“Why?” Tony asks, sounding hurt.

 

“Because you nearly _died_ ,” Bruce replies, his voice rising. “You could have died.”

 

Tony stares at Bruce blankly for a moment, and then he smiles. “So, you do care.”

 

“Of course I fucking care!” Bruce shouts, and then stops, taking a deep breath. “Are you injured?”

 

“Bumps and bruises,” Tony replies, advancing on Bruce. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Yes, it does,” Bruce protests, but the strength of his emotions surprises even him. He’s used to being angry, but he’s not used to _this_.

 

Tony shakes his head. “No, _this_ is what matters.”

 

Tony’s mouth is demanding when he kisses Bruce, and Bruce can feel Tony’s exhilaration, and his manic energy. Bruce can’t help but be swept away.

 

“You’re bad for me,” Bruce mutters against the side of Tony’s neck. “You make me feel things.”

 

“I think that’s the point,” Tony replies, shoving his hands under Bruce’s shirt. “What would life be like if you didn’t feel?”

 

“It’s dangerous,” Bruce argues.

 

“So’s life,” Tony murmurs.

 

Bruce allows Tony to pull his shirt off, and then returns the favor. “You have supplies down here?”

 

Tony motions to a drawer in a toolkit. “Yeah, sure, of course. With you around, I feel it always pays to be prepared, and we spend most of our time down here.”

 

There’s a couch in the corner, and Bruce nudges Tony in that direction. “I’ll let you fuck me,” he offers.

 

Tony grins, wide and delighted. “You know, if you’re trying to teach me a lesson for being reckless, this is probably not the way to go about it.”

 

“I’m hoping that it will be the motivation you need to _not_ do something like that in the future,” Bruce replies. “That, and I really want you to fuck me. I want to feel you.”

 

Tony’s expression softens, and he kisses Bruce again hard. “Let me grab the stuff.”

 

Bruce finishes getting undressed, and settles on the couch, legs spread wide in invitation.

 

Tony approaches with lube, a condom, and a determined expression. “For the record, I haven’t done this very often, so you have to tell me if something isn’t working for you.”

 

“You’re a genius,” Bruce replies, swinging his legs up and stretching out. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

 

“Jarvis, we need privacy,” Tony says, and drops his jeans. He squeezes lube out onto his fingers and hitches Bruce’s hips up with one arm, bending over him. “Is this the way you want to do this?”

 

“I want to see you,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony swallows audibly. “What you do to me,” he mutters.

 

One finger feels strange, and maybe a little uncomfortable, and two burns and stretches.

 

“Okay?” Tony asks anxiously.

 

“Keep going,” Bruce orders, knowing that it won’t take long until he gets into it, and he makes a conscious effort to relax.

 

And then Tony twists his fingers just right, and Bruce cries out with pleasure. “There,” Tony says with a triumphant grin.

 

Bruce is lost in waves of pleasure as Tony adds a third finger, hitting his prostate over and over, and then he watches as Tony rips into the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls it onto his dick in a practiced motion.

 

Tony moves slowly, pushing into Bruce’s body by centimeters.

 

“You can move faster,” Bruce hisses.

 

“Don’t want to hurt you,” Tony replies, sounding strained.

 

“You won’t,” Bruce says. “Come on.”

 

Tony starts moving a little faster, hitting just the right spot, and Bruce is lost in the sensation. It’s not anger for once; it’s affection and lust and wonder.

 

“You’re gorgeous,” Tony murmurs, wrapping a hand around Bruce’s cock. “Come on, Bruce.”

 

And Bruce comes all over Tony’s hand, as Tony keeps pounding into him, and Tony isn’t far behind.

 

Tony pulls out with a groan and collapses on top of Bruce. “Please tell me we can do that again.”

 

“You have to be alive to do that,” Bruce replies, pressing his lips against Tony’s cheek. “How’s that for incentive?”

 

“Pretty damn good,” Tony admits. “We should get cleaned up.”

 

Bruce chuckles. “I’m going to need a minute.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Tony replies. “Take all the time you need.”

 

And Bruce just holds on.

 

~~~~~

 

“You need to ice your shoulder,” Bruce says, taping a cold pack on Tony’s left shoulder. “I still think you should get a scan.”

 

“I’m fine,” Tony replies. “And you know they should probably do an MRI, and they can’t.”

 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Bruce replies, running a hand down Tony’s arm in an affectionate gesture. “What are you working on?”

 

“A way to solve the icing problem,” Tony says. “A few other modifications on the suit. Whatever comes to mind.”

 

Bruce nods and turns away, heading for his own corner. “Let me know if you need a hand.”

 

Over the last couple of weeks, Bruce had begun working on his own stuff, and he responds only vaguely when Tony asks what it is.

 

Tony knows Bruce well enough at this point to know that Bruce will tell him when he’s ready, and not one minute before. He trusts Bruce enough to let him have his secrets.

 

Tony runs through the checks, and orders Jarvis to use the gold titanium alloy to solve the icing problem. He has a few ideas for how to improve the power consumption and make it more efficient, as well as improving maneuverability.

 

The suit is always going to be a work in progress; tinkering is in Tony’s nature.

 

Tony pours a glass of the green juice he tends to swill when in the middle of something; it keeps his mind sharp. “You sure I can’t interest you in one of these?” he asks Bruce.

 

“No thanks,” Bruce says with a wry grin. “I’m in favor of eating healthy, but I have to draw the line somewhere.”

 

“You know, it’s really not that bad once you get used to it.”

 

Bruce turns to look at him fully. “It’s green, and a little slimy. I could make real food.”

 

“I’m not all that hungry, but don’t let me stop you,” Tony replies, flipping on the news.

 

“You’re just torturing yourself,” Bruce calls out.

 

Tony takes a drink. “I like to know what they’re saying about me.”

 

He winces when the pretty blonde refers to his “bizarre and highly controversial press conference,” and then suggests that he’s suffering from post-traumatic stress, and has been in bed for the last few weeks.

 

“You know what I just realized?” Tony asks, an idea hitting him.

 

“I have no idea what goes through your head on a good day,” Bruce replies. “So, no.”

 

Tony stands up. “We’ve never been on a date.”

 

Bruce frowns. “No. Oh, no. No way.”

 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you!” Tony protests.

 

Bruce crosses his arms over his chest. “I think I can put two and two together. We’re trying to lay low, remember?”

 

“I’m done with that,” Tony replies angrily. “I did that, and the board locked me out. They think I’m holed up here, confined to bed, because I’m traumatized. Well, I’m going to show them that I’m not, and if you go with me, they’ll think I’ve been holed up with my incredibly hot boyfriend having copious amounts of sex.”

 

Bruce hesitates. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

 

“I’ve got suits to spare,” Tony argues. “We’ll make something work.”

 

“I’m no good at this sort of thing,” Bruce complains, although his protest lacks strength. “What happens if I lose control in the crowd?”

 

“You won’t,” Tony says simply. “You held it together when you were about to be tortured, remember? You can handle a fundraiser. Say you’ll go.”

 

Bruce rubs his eyes and sighs. “Fine. I’ll go. But I’m holding you responsible for any property damage.”

 

“I promise to pay for any and all damage you might do,” Tony promises.

 

It doesn’t take long for them to get cleaned up. Tony has his usual tux, and he finds another that will fit Bruce well enough to get by.

 

“How many suits do you have?” Bruce asks incredulously. “You realize that most people don’t have one tux in their closet, let alone—four?”

 

“More than that, probably,” Tony admits. “But I wear them! It’s a hazard of the job. Sometimes I have to go to things like fundraisers, and it’s a pain in the ass to get a rental.”

 

“Also, you actually have to plan ahead,” Bruce points out with a smile as he buttons his shirt. “I’m going to need cufflinks.”

 

“On it,” Tony replies, and grabs another set, one he rarely uses. They’re the silver and onyx pair that an old girlfriend gave him a long time ago. “Here, let me.”

 

As Tony fastens Bruce’s cuffs, Bruce says, “So, this feels weird.”

 

“What’s weird about it?” Tony asks, running a thumb over the inside of Bruce’s wrist.

 

“Going out into the wide world,” Bruce replies. “I haven’t—I’ve been in hiding for years.”

 

Tony lets out a breath. “Okay, so maybe we’re skipping a couple of steps.”

 

“More like you’re throwing me into the deep end of the pool,” Bruce replies. “But okay. I guess we’ll see if Coulson’s organization can keep its promise.”

 

Tony squeezes Bruce’s hand. “Not just Coulson. You’ve got me, too. You know that.”

 

“I know that,” Bruce admits. “Look, when we get back tonight, there’s something I have to tell you.”

 

“Sounds serious,” Tony replies.

 

“It is.” Bruce pulls his head down for a quick kiss. “Stay with me tonight.”

 

“Like glue,” Tony promises.

 

They take the Audi, and Tony feels the powerful engine purring under him. It’s been far too long since he’s been behind the wheel. He’s missed it more than he realized.

 

The flashbulbs go off as soon as Tony pulls up in front of the venue.

 

“How do you want to play this?” Bruce asks. “Are we friends, or—”

 

Tony smiles. “Hot boyfriend, remember?

 

“Right. You sure that’s not some other guy?” Bruce asks with a raised eyebrow.

 

“No one else,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce nods resolutely. “Let’s do this.”

 

Tony rounds the car just as Bruce climbs out, and he holds out his hand, gratified when Bruce laces their fingers together. Tony hands off the keys to the valet, and then they walk up the red carpet.

 

Tony can hear the shouts, questions coming from every side. He sees Obadiah talking to a reporter and feels a moment of uneasiness.

 

“Tony,” Bruce murmurs.

 

“No, we’re not hiding,” Tony insists in a low voice. “He can deal with it.”

 

A blonde woman called, “Tony, remember me?”

 

“Sure don’t,” Tony replies easily, catching Bruce’s eye roll.

 

Eyes and voices follow Tony, and Obadiah breaks off his conversation with the reporter. “Well, look at you,” Obadiah says, turning to look at Tony. “And you brought a date.”

 

“Figured it was about time I showed Bruce the town instead of holing up in my lab,” Tony replies easily. “We’ll see you inside.”

 

“Tony, wait,” Obadiah says, putting an arm around Tony’s shoulders and pulling him away from Bruce. “Just play it cool, okay? Bringing your boyfriend is probably not the best PR move.”

 

Tony frowns. “I’m giving people something to talk about other than my supposed trauma.”

 

“I’m just saying, I think I’ve got the board right where I want them,” Obadiah replies.

 

Tony pulls free. “Yeah, sure. We won’t be here long. I wouldn’t want Bruce to get cranky.”

 

Bruce has been cornered by a reporter who’s asking, “How long have you and Mr. Stark been together?”

 

“A while,” Bruce says vaguely.

 

“Months,” Tony inserts, wrapping an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. “Bruce here saved my life. He’s my hero. The wind beneath my wings, even.”

 

Bruce chokes on his spit, and Tony drags him away. “I cannot believe you just said that,” Bruce says in an undertone once he has his breath back.

 

Tony grins. “Reporters love that shit.”

 

“Which you’re full of,” Bruce replies.

 

“You still love me,” Tony says.

 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

 

Tony knows when someone is playing hard to get. “Come on. Let’s get a drink. Maybe I’ll get you to dance with me.”

 

“Maybe hell will freeze over,” Bruce suggests pleasantly.

 

“Not a dancer?”

 

“Not much of one, no,” Bruce replies. “Plus, I don’t think we need that kind of attention.”

 

Tony shakes his head as he waves over a passing waiter. “We need exactly that kind of attention. The Army will have a very hard time disappearing you if you’re on the front page of a tabloid.”

 

His eye is caught by a stunning redhead in a backless blue dress who looks oddly familiar. She turns, and Tony recognizes Pepper. Next to him, Bruce lets out a low whistle. “Holy shit.”

 

“I know, right?” Tony murmurs, and glances over at Bruce.

 

They share a brief, knowing grin as Pepper walks up to them. “I didn’t expect to see you two here,” she says, sounding a little surprised. “You clean up nicely, Bruce.”

 

Bruce tugs at his collar. “Thanks. It’s a little weird, right?”

 

“It’s not weird,” Pepper says firmly. “In fact, it’s probably the best PR move Tony could make at this point. You both look great.”

 

“Bruce won’t dance with me,” Tony says with a pout.

 

Pepper smiles. “Maybe he’ll dance with me. Bruce?”

 

Bruce looks adorably flustered. “I, uh, sure?”

 

“Traitor,” Tony accuses, but he’s grinning. He knows that Bruce is in good hands.

 

Plus, Bruce looks great dancing with Pepper—a little shy, smiling, moving cautiously, but apparently enjoying himself.

 

And then Bruce glances at Tony, meeting his eyes, and he flashes Tony a grin, and Tony knows that Bruce is his.

 

Somehow, that makes it even better.

 

~~~~~

 

Pepper sways in time to the music, with Bruce’s hand warm on her lower back, and his other hand in hers. He moves cautiously, but he’s not a bad dancer, and Pepper’s had worse partners.

 

It probably helps that she’s rather fond of Bruce.

 

“How is he?” Pepper asks quietly.

 

Bruce hitches a shoulder. “I think he’s okay. The thing with the board shook him up a bit, but he’s dealing with it.”

 

“And you’re staying to help him deal with it,” Pepper replies.

 

“Seems like the thing to do,” Bruce says. “And honestly, I don’t have the heart to walk away.”

 

Pepper smiles at him. “Good. There aren’t a lot of people who refuse to walk away from Tony, and he needs that.”

 

The song ends, and Bruce takes a step back. “Thanks.”

 

“For what?” Pepper asks with a puzzled frown.

 

“For the dance, and the rest of it,” Bruce replies with a warm smile.

 

“May I cut in?” Tony asks, grabbing Bruce’s hand before he can protest. “Pepper, do you mind?”

 

“Not at all,” Pepper replies.

 

Bruce is well and truly caught, and he gives in to Tony’s prodding with good grace. Pepper watches them for a moment as Tony says something that makes Bruce laugh, and Bruce responds in kind.

 

They look good together, and Tony looks happy and definitely not traumatized.

 

“Mr. Stark is looking remarkably well.”

 

Pepper glances over at the speaker, seeing a middle aged man in a suit, wearing a pleasant smile. “Do I know you?”

 

“Dr. Banner and I have met,” he replies. “I’m Agent Phil Coulson from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

 

Pepper raises her eyebrows.

 

“It’s a mouthful,” Coulson agrees. “We’re working on it.”

 

“Not to be rude, but what do you want?” Pepper asks.

 

“We’re interested in keeping Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark safe and free from interference,” Coulson replies.

 

Pepper looks for Bruce, wanting to get confirmation, and she sees him and Tony making their way toward the bar.

 

“I’m just not sure what your interest is,” Pepper says.

 

Coulson smiles. “We’d rather not let the Army get their hands on Dr. Banner, or any other weapon.”

 

Pepper frowns, suspecting that she knows what weapon Coulson is referring to—the one in Tony’s chest.

 

“Pepper, who’s your friend?” Tony asks as they approach, his gaze sharp.

 

“Tony, Agent Phil Coulson,” Bruce says before Pepper can speak. “I told you about him.”

 

“The guy from the secret government agency that’s supposed to keep the Army off your back?” Tony asks, his tone mocking. “And what brings you to the fundraiser, Agent?”

 

“Secret agent business,” Coulson replies enigmatically. “Although I would like to find a time to debrief you.”

 

Tony snorts. “No, I don’t think so.”

 

“You promised me a month,” Bruce points out. “By my count, we’ve still got a few days.”

 

“I think we’ll prove ourselves after tonight,” Coulson replies.

 

Tony turns to Bruce. “You sure you don’t want to dance again?”

 

Bruce sighs. “Fine.”

 

Coulson watches them go with a bland expression. “Tell me, is Mr. Stark always this good at avoiding things he doesn’t want to do?”

 

Pepper can’t help the laugh that escapes. “Usually, he’s even better.”

 

“Dr. Banner seems able to corral him,” Coulson observes.

 

Pepper shrugs. “I guess. I’m still not sure why you’re interested.”

 

Coulson smiles. “We’ll save that for the debriefing. I’ll see you soon, Miss Potts.”

 

Pepper watches him go, feeling a little uneasy. If a secret government agency was this interested in Bruce and Tony, who else wants to get their hands on them?

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce leans into Tony as they stand next to the bar, waiting to get their drinks. “I need to take a break.”

 

“You want to step outside?” Tony asks. “I think we could probably find a balcony.”

 

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Bruce offers. “I think I can probably handle it.”

 

“I keep my promises,” Tony replies, waving over the bartender. “Martini for me,” he orders. “Bruce?”

 

“Club soda with lime,” Bruce says.

 

Tony doesn’t say anything about Bruce’s drink choice, for which Bruce is grateful. He’d like to keep his wits about him.

 

The night air is cooler, and Bruce resists the urge to loosen his bowtie, since there’s really no in between there—it’s on or it’s off.

 

“How are you holding up?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “Fine. I just—haven’t been around this many people for a long time.”

 

“Overwhelming?”

 

“Little bit.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Bruce sighs. “Don’t apologize. Pepper thinks this was a good idea. You can show everybody you’re not crazy, or bedridden, or whatever.”

 

He sees Tony wince, and asks, “What?”

 

Tony’s face goes blank. “What?”

 

“What was that?” Bruce asks. “The wince.”

 

“It was a ‘maybe I am crazy after all’ wince,” Tony replies, and Bruce knows when someone is being evasive.

 

Then again, Bruce is keeping his own secrets, so it’s a case of people living in glass houses, and he’s not about to throw stones.

 

“What has you worried?” Bruce asks.

 

“I don’t know,” Tony says. “Look, I’m going to get another drink. You want to come with me or stay out here?”

 

“I think I’ll stay out here,” Bruce replies, not wanting to brave the crowded room again so soon; he’s enjoying the air.

 

“You want me to bring something back?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “No, I’m good.”

 

He leans against the railing and feels the breeze ruffle his hair. He’d been overwhelmed by the perfumes and cologne, the people, the lights, the jostling. Five minutes go by, and Bruce feels like he can breathe again; ten minutes, and he starts to get worried when Tony doesn’t reappear.

 

Fifteen, and Bruce goes back in search of him.

 

He sees Pepper talking to a couple of people Bruce doesn’t know, but he doesn’t see Tony. Bruce glances around, and then starts pushing his way through the crowd.

 

A blonde woman intercepts him with a sharp edged smile “So, are you the one responsible for Mr. Stark’s new pacifist streak?”

 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Bruce replies, trying to get around her, but she blocks him expertly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

 

“Then maybe you can tell me why a recent terrorist attack on Gulmira, in Afghanistan, used Stark weapons to destroy an entire village,” she suggests. “Mr. Stark seemed very interested in the photographs I showed him.”

 

Bruce thinks he might know why Tony hadn’t returned. “Out of my way,” Bruce orders, suddenly feeling dangerously on edge. “ _Now_.”

 

He pushes past her, mentally daring her to follow him, although he’s relieved when she doesn’t. Reporters want stories, and Bruce has made himself a story by coming with Tony tonight. He knows he’s going to have to deal with the questions, but he’ll put them off as long as he can.

 

Because right now, he needs to get to Tony.

 

He spots Tony standing on the steps, Obadiah’s arm around his shoulders as cameras flash. Bruce keeps his distance, watching as Obadiah pats Tony’s arm and strides off, waving off the reporters that try to swarm him.

 

When Bruce reaches Tony’s side, he takes one look at Tony’s face and says, “I’ll drive you home.”

 

Bruce takes the keys from the valet when he brings the car around and watches as Tony gets into the passenger seat, tipping his head back against the headrest. Tony looks sick and shocked, almost like he had after he’d woken with the car battery hooked up to his chest.

 

Tony remains silent, and Bruce leaves him be for the moment.

 

Bruce hasn’t been behind the wheel of a car in ages, and he doesn’t think he’s ever driven a car this nice. He enjoys it, in spite of his worry; Bruce has gotten very good at compartmentalizing over the years.

 

He pulls the car into its space in the garage and cuts the engine. “Great car,” he says quietly, the first words he’s spoken since they’d left.

 

Tony doesn’t move. “It was Obadiah.”

 

Bruce turns to look at him. “What?”

 

“He was the one who filed the injunction,” Tony says in a monotone. “He locked me out.”

  
Bruce frowns. “He knows you’re not crazy.”

 

“It’s an excuse, just like you being here is an excuse,” Tony murmurs.

 

Bruce grabs Tony’s shoulder. “What do you mean—me being here?”

 

Tony winces, and Bruce recognizes that expression from the party. “Something Obadiah said when he first told me they were shutting me out.”

 

The car is suddenly too small, and Bruce climbs out, yanking his tie loose and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He slams the door behind him, and hears Tony get out a few seconds later.

 

“This isn’t your fault,” Tony says quietly.

 

The lab seems incredibly silent, the spaces between their words echoing strangely in Bruce’s ears. His heart is beating in double-time, and he has to breathe deeply.

 

The prospect of running makes his stomach twist unhappily. “I should leave,” he says dully.

 

“Fuck that noise,” Tony snaps. “See, this is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d leap to that conclusion. You need to stay.”

 

“He’s using me against you!” Bruce shouts, whirling to face Tony. “The logical response is for me to leave.”

 

Tony runs a hand through his hair. “Bruce, even if that were true—and I’m not conceding that it is—what’s done is done. Obadiah took my company; he stole it right out from under my nose. If you leave now, you’re leaving me without anybody to watch my back.” He pauses. “And I’ve gotten used to you watching my back.”

 

That argument would probably have been enough to convince Bruce to stay for Tony’s benefit, but the truth is that Bruce is a selfish bastard, and he wants to keep Tony. He wants to stay here for himself, too, and damn the consequences.

 

Bruce doesn’t want to run any more.

 

“Okay,” he says finally. “I’ll stay.”

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Tony says wearily. “I should have. I just—I wanted to keep you here, and I didn’t want you to get some kind of martyr complex.”

 

“I understand,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony pulls his own tie free. “There’s another thing I need to look into. That reporter told me my weapons had been used in Afghanistan. She had pictures.”

 

“I know,” Bruce says, interrupting him. “She tried to corner me, too.”

 

“That’s when I confronted Obie,” Tony says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I don’t know if he just doesn’t care, or if he’s actually sold the weapons to terrorists, but…”

 

Bruce nods. “We’ll get your company back.”

 

Tony scrubs his face with his hands. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

 

“What?”

 

“You said before the party, there was something you wanted to tell me,” Tony prompts him.

 

Bruce knows that he should tell Tony about the risks of palladium poisoning, but he can’t drop that on Tony right now. “It will keep,” Bruce says. “Let’s figure out where those weapons are, okay?”

 

If Bruce’s calculations are correct, they’ve got time—at least nine months, maybe as much as a year—before the palladium buildup in Tony’s blood is critical, and Bruce doesn’t have a solution to offer right now.

 

No, it’s better to wait, and deal with the problem immediately at hand.

 

And then, because he can’t help himself, Bruce closes the distance between them, pulling Tony into a hug. “I’ve got you,” he promises. “I’ve got your back.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jennifer Walters has a very standard morning routine, which includes waking up early, buying a paper and a cup of coffee at the newsstand on her way to the office, and then reading said paper at her desk first thing.

 

She could read it at home, but she likes getting into the office before anybody else is there, so she can check her email, read the news, and prepare for the day.

 

Jennifer skims through the major stories, finding nothing but the usual information about the upcoming election, the current president, and various political scandals. She checks the sports section reflexively even though she’s soured on most of her teams lately, and glances at the front page of the society section.

 

She nearly flips past it when she stops, takes a deep breath, and gives it another look.

 

There, on the page, for all the world to see, is Tony Stark—who is holding hands with a man that Jennifer had believed was dead.

 

Jennifer reads the text under the photograph, and sure enough, it says, “Tony Stark at a fundraiser with reputed boyfriend.” A quick skim of the article tells her that Stark’s appearance at the fundraiser had been a surprise, that it was his first since his bombshell of a press conference, and that Stark was definitely there with a mystery man.

 

Granted, nowhere in the article is Bruce’s name mentioned, but it _has_ to be him. His hair is longer, and he’s wearing a tux—and Jennifer knows for a fact that Bruce hates ties—but it’s recognizably _Bruce_.

 

Jennifer could find a number for Tony Stark—or more accurately, his secretary or assistant—and ask Bruce to call her, but if he’d wanted to get in touch, he would have done so already.

 

And Jennifer _knows_ Bruce; she knows that whatever he’d been working on before he disappeared had been so classified that they’d cleaned out his apartment and taken all his things, without even notifying his next of kin.

 

She remembers that last conversation she’d had with Betty, when she’d started to realize that Bruce might not be coming back, when Betty had said, “Just drop it, Jennifer. You don’t want to get involved in this. _Bruce_ wouldn’t want you to be involved,” right before hanging up.

 

That means the best, the only option is to plant herself on Tony Stark’s doorstep until she can see Bruce face-to-face, so she can overwhelm his defenses.

 

Jennifer has always been really good at that.

 

She takes a few deep breaths, and then calls her boss’ extension. “Hi, um, this is Jennifer. I need to take some personal leave to deal with a family emergency. I have a—a brother who might be in some legal trouble. I’ll let you know how things are going.”

 

Jennifer winces as soon as she puts the receiver down, because that was about the worst excuse ever, even if it might be mostly truth.

 

Still, she has vacation to burn—theoretically—and she can take it.

 

Last minute cross-country flights are not cheap, and the best one she can manage on her limited budget involves two very long layovers, one in Atlanta, and then in Denver. She doesn’t book a return trip, because she wants to be somewhat flexible if her mission is a success.

 

At LAX, Jennifer gets the cheapest rental they have and heads to Malibu, and the small car shudders a bit as they climb. Stark’s address hadn’t been all that hard to find, and unlike a lot of billionaires, he doesn’t have iron gates up to keep the rabble out, which means she can just walk right up to the front door.

 

Jennifer wonders if he has security in place she doesn’t know about, and tugs at her rumpled gray blazer, and then runs her hands over her equally wrinkled skirt. She’s been in the same clothing for the past 24 hours, and she’s running on about 30 minutes of sleep, but it’s worth it, if she can just see Bruce.

 

Squaring her shoulders, she marches up to what passes for the front door and looks around for a doorbell, which she presses firmly.

 

Nothing. She knocks. When she doesn’t get an answer, she knocks louder, having already decided that she’s not leaving without an answer.

 

The woman who opens the door is tall and leggy and has strawberry blonde hair, and she looks incredibly put together. The kind of put together that means she probably never has a wrinkled suit, even after spending 24 hours in it.

 

“Hi, my name is Jennifer Walters,” she explains all in a rush. “I’m here to see Bruce. Bruce Banner.”

 

The woman’s eyes narrow. “I’m sorry. There’s no one here by that name.”

 

Jennifer holds up her evidence to the contrary in the form of the paper she’d seen five days ago with a picture of Bruce and Tony Stark on the front page of the Society section. “Try again.”

 

“I’m sorry,” the woman says. “Perhaps if you’d call—”

 

“Pepper, what— _Jen_?”

 

Jennifer doesn’t need any other invitation. She pushes past the redhead to see Bruce, who’s staring at her with a dumbfounded expression. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me, you _jerk_ ,” she says, and then throws her arms around him.

 

After a second, Bruce pulls her into a hug that’s just as tight. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he mutters.

 

“You made the papers,” she replies, having dropped said paper on the floor. She pulls back and smacks him on the chest. “I thought you were dead!”

 

Bruce’s expression relaxes into one of warm amusement. “Surprise?”

 

Jennifer takes a deep breath, feeling shaky all of a sudden, the adrenalin that has sustained her over the last few days draining away all at once.

 

“Bruce?” the redhead calls out warily.

 

Bruce wraps an arm around Jennifer’s waist. “Pepper, this is my cousin, Jennifer Walters. Jen, Pepper Potts.”

 

“Pleased to meet you,” Jennifer says faintly.

 

“Hey, come on, sit down,” Bruce says, pulling her into the house. “You want something to drink? Something to eat?”

 

She realizes belatedly that Bruce is barefoot, wearing grease-stained khakis and a loose gray t-shirt. He looks utterly at home. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

 

“No!” Bruce says at once. “No, no. It’s okay. Come on.”

 

“Coffee?” Ms. Potts asks. “I’ll get you a cup.”

 

“Uh, yeah.” She sits down on the couch, and Bruce takes the seat next to her. “I’m sorry. I just, I saw the picture, and I had to come.”

 

Bruce leans his forehead against hers. “I’m glad you did. I didn’t want to get you involved in this, but I’m not sorry you came.”

 

“Bruce? Jarvis said we had company, what’s—”

 

Jennifer recognizes Tony Stark, of course. She also recognizes the jealousy and uncertainty on his face. He’s wiping his hands on a rag and staring at her like she just stole his lunch money. Or his boyfriend. It would be funny if she weren’t so tired.

 

She’ll probably laugh about it later, once she has some sleep.

 

Bruce sighs. “Tony, this is my cousin, Jennifer Walters. Jen, Tony Stark.”

 

Stark is abruptly all smiles and charm. “Ms. Walters. It’s a pleasure,” he says, holding out a hand.

 

She shakes his hand, and tries not to let on how awed she feels. “Same,” she says faintly.

 

Stark drops down on the couch on the other side of Bruce, and Jen looks at Bruce with a raised eyebrow, and he responds with a sheepish shrug.

 

“What brings you by?” Stark asks, sprawling on the couch, his leg bumping Bruce’s.

 

“I saw Bruce’s picture in the paper, which is really interesting since he basically _disappeared_ a few years ago,” Jen says, putting a sharp elbow in Bruce’s ribs. “I thought he’d died, and the Army was covering it up, or something equally horrible.”

 

“That’s not all that far from the truth,” Bruce mutters.

 

“Clearly not, since you’re not dead,” Jennifer points out. “When I saw your picture in the paper, I had proof.”

 

 Stark is watching them with a delighted grin on his face, and Ms. Potts hands her a cup of coffee. “Thank you,” Jennifer says fervently.

 

“Hey, how long has it been since you’ve had some sleep?” Bruce asks, and Jennifer takes a shaky breath.

 

 _This_ is why she’d packed a bag and flown across the country. Bruce is the only family Jennifer has left, and he’d been like a brother to her.

 

She doesn’t have anybody else in her life who can take one look at her and know that she’s short on sleep and food, and just about everything else.

 

“I slept a bit on the plane,” she says with a smile, covering her emotion with a sip of coffee.

 

“Come on, Tony,” Ms. Potts says, grabbing Tony’s arm. “You can talk to your boyfriend later.”

 

She practically drags Stark off with the kind of ruthless efficiency that Jennifer admires wholeheartedly, leaving Jennifer alone with Bruce.

 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Bruce says with raw honesty. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

 

“Why?” she asks. “Why did you drop off the face of the planet?”

 

Bruce rubbed his eyes. “It’s hard to explain.”

 

“Try,” Jennifer replies wearily. “I talked to Betty, you know. She sounded scared when she told me to drop it.”

 

Bruce sighs. “The Army had me working on a super soldier serum using gamma radiation. I tried it on myself.”

 

Jennifer frowns. “I take it that didn’t go so well.”

 

“There was…an accident,” Bruce explains haltingly. “Sometimes I’m not exactly myself, and I end up hurting other people. The Army wants to use that as a weapon, and I had to leave to make sure they didn’t.”

 

“How did you wind up with Tony Stark?” she asks, and then she puts two and two together. “You were with him in Afghanistan. The news said something about a mysterious doctor who had saved his life.”

 

“I didn’t do all that much,” Bruce replies. “I didn’t want the Army coming after you, too.”

 

Jennifer reaches out. “Have you forgotten what I _do_?” When he frowns, she says, “I’m a lawyer specializing in civil rights law. I can have a preliminary injunction drawn up in a couple of days, ordering the Army to cease and desist their harassment. They won’t get their hands on you without a fight.”

 

“That’s what Tony said,” Bruce admits.

 

“Then I think I might like Tony quite a bit,” Jennifer replies. “It’s really good to see you.”

 

Bruce smiles, and pulls her in for another hug. “Yeah, same here.”

 

~~~~~

 

Tony looks up as Bruce lets himself into the lab. “Where’s that cousin of yours?”

 

“I put her in the guest room you were going to let me use,” Bruce says hesitantly. “Is that okay?”

 

“I told you, my house is your house,” Tony says. “And it’s not like you’re using the guest room, so yeah, it’s fine. It’s great.” He turns towards Bruce fully. “So, how come you didn’t tell me you had family?”

 

Bruce sighs. “You’ll remember that when you asked me that question, I was lying to you about pretty much everything.”

 

“You had an undergrad degree in physics,” Tony feels compelled to point out.

 

“Okay, I lied about a lot of things,” Bruce says. “But the point being, Bruce Banner had a cousin; Bruce Roberts didn’t. And I didn’t want her involved because I didn’t want the Army to go after her.”

 

Tony narrows his eyes. “I’m beginning to sense this is a pattern with you.”

 

“What pattern?” Bruce asks.

 

“Protecting the people you love.”

 

Bruce actually looks a little flustered at that. “Uh, yeah. Maybe so.”

 

Tony blows out a breath. “Okay, so you’ve got a cousin, who is apparently prepared to go to war on your behalf, which is great, by the way. I’m glad you have someone like that in your corner.”

 

“Jen’s pretty great,” Bruce agrees with a fond smile. “After—we were basically raised together. I mean, I was older than she was, but… Never mind.”

 

Bruce doesn’t talk about his past, or about his family, and this is more than Tony’s found out in the months they’ve known each other.

 

“You were close,” Tony says gently.

 

“Yeah, we were close,” Bruce admits. “I wanted to keep her out of it. I didn’t talk about her with anyone in the Army. Betty knew about her, but she knew better than to tell anybody. She knew what I told her was said in confidence.”

 

Tony gives him a look. “You weren’t ever going to tell her you were alive.”

 

“I thought she might be better off if she thought I was dead,” Bruce says, trying for a smile, and not quite making it.

 

“Hey.” Tony feels the need to reach out, wrapping a hand around the back of Bruce’s neck. “She’s here now, and you’ll do your best. Any friend of yours, etc. We won’t let anything happen to her.”

 

This time, Bruce’s smile is more genuine. “Thanks.”

 

“But if you’re free right now, I think we should go over the data I got from Gulmira,” Tony continues. “I think there are some upgrades to the suit we could make that might the next mission easier.”

 

Bruce gives him a sharp look. “Next mission, huh?”

 

“Objections?” Tony asks, wondering if he’s going to have this conversation with Bruce again.

 

Tony doesn’t blame Bruce for being worried; he’d feel the same way if their positions were reversed, but he’s not going to back down. He has a responsibility, and that’s not going away with Bruce’s worry.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “This is something you have to do. A lot of people would have said I was crazy for going to Afghanistan to offer medical help.”

 

“You were crazy,” Tony says with a grin. “But look where you ended up!”

 

Bruce smiles. “You won’t hear me complaining. How did you feel, when you were in the field?”

 

Tony frowns, hearing an odd note in Bruce’s question. “Good. Great, even. Why?”

 

“I just wondered if maybe it put a strain on the arc reactor,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony knows Bruce well enough to know when he’s not telling the whole truth. He also knows that if the past is any indication, Bruce will spill when he’s ready.

 

Because that’s the thing—Tony _trusts_ Bruce, full stop.

 

“I’m good,” Tony assures him. “No problems at all that I could detect.”

 

Bruce nods. “You know we need more information about how those weapons wound up where they did.”

 

Tony likes the sound of that “we,” and he doesn’t disagree. “Yeah, we do, and to do that, we probably need to send someone into the lion’s den.”

 

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony shrugs. “Only if the person gets caught.”

 

Bruce sighs. “Who’s going in?”

 

“I think it should probably be Pepper,” Tony replies hesitantly. He hates the idea of sending her into danger, but Pepper knows the layout of the offices, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get in, since Obadiah has taken such great pains to lock him out.

 

“Maybe I should go with her,” Bruce says quietly. “If things go really wrong, I might be able to cover for her long enough for her to escape.”

 

Tony has some understanding of what a huge concession that is, since Bruce generally insists that the Hulk is dangerous. The fact that he’s offering to use his greener half means a lot.

 

“The way you covered for me?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “It worked, didn’t it?”

 

“We make a phenomenal team,” Tony agrees. “Even the Hulk agrees with me there.”

 

Bruce shrugs, but he doesn’t argue, and Tony counts that as a victory.

 

They work in companionable silence for the next few hours, upgrading the suit and making improvements to the weapons system.

 

“You know, if you’re going to stick around long term, I could build you your own lab,” Tony offers when they take a coffee break. “More equipment, stuff you really want to work on. Stark Industries could use you.” He winces. “You know, when I have my company back.”

 

“Are you going to hire an attorney to fight the injunction?” Bruce asks. “Obviously, you’re not crazy.”

 

Tony has a thought. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll hire your cousin. She any good?”

 

“Really good,” Bruce says with pride. “Although there might be a conflict of interest there.”

 

“If she’s interested, there’s no conflict,” Tony replies with a smirk.

 

“I can ask her,” Bruce replies, sipping his coffee. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that, because that’s going to take a lot of time, and a lot of things can go wrong in the meantime.”

 

Tony has a sudden flash of insight. “That’s why you didn’t fight the Army.”

 

“First off, I wasn’t sure they wouldn’t make me disappear,” Bruce says, “which would mean I wouldn’t get the chance to fight it. And yeah, I had some idea what they wanted, and I knew what might happen between them holding me, and me getting free, if it ever happened.”

 

Tony hesitates, and then admits, “I always thought of Obadiah as family, you know.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Bruce says gently. “He was wrong. Maybe he has good intentions, but he was wrong.”

 

Tony knows that Bruce is trying to be gentle for his sake. “I don’t think he has pure motives.”

 

“Yeah, probably not,” Bruce replies, his expression grim.

 

“Come here,” Tony says.

 

Bruce smirks. “Maybe you should come over here.”

 

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Are you really going to play it out this way?”

 

“Oh, I think so,” Bruce says, spreading his legs a bit.

 

“Dominance is a good look on you,” Tony admits, moving so that he’s standing between Bruce’s legs. “More so because I’m pretty sure I’m the only person who sees that side of you.”

 

“Well, the Other Guy likes you,” Bruce replies with a wry smile. “So, I figure we’re pretty safe.”

 

Tony leans in to kiss him, his hands cupping Bruce’s face, and the kiss is gentle, even tentative, in contrast to their teasing. Bruce is careful of Tony’s bruises, and Tony just wants to taste him.

 

Bruce never fails to surprise him, and Tony appreciates that.

 

“Maybe we should take this to a bed,” Bruce suggests after a long make out session.

 

“That might be wise,” Tony agrees. “I think Pepper might still be around, and I’d hate for her or your cousin to get an eyeful.”

 

“Funny, I thought you might be into having an audience,” Bruce teases.

 

Tony laughs. “I don’t like to share.”

 

“I don’t either.”

 

They stumble up to Tony’s bed in a battle for dominance that Tony is happy to let Bruce win.

 

They’re both too tired to do much more than fall into bed and rub off together, but even that’s good. Bruce ends up on top, but Tony doesn’t mind that either, because Bruce is a fucking _genius_ , and knows just how to get Tony off.

 

“Seriously, dating a genius is the _best_ ,” Tony says when they’re both sprawled out on the bed, sated and sticky.

 

Bruce huffs a laugh. “Why is that?”

 

“Superior ability to read the signs and adjust accordingly,” Tony says smugly.

 

“You’re putting yourself into that category,” Bruce accuses, but he’s grinning, so Tony counts that as a victory.

 

Tony props himself up on an elbow so he can look at Bruce. “If the shoe fits…”

 

Bruce snorts. “You _think_ it fits.”

 

“If you’re not satisfied, I demand a redo,” Tony replies, leering at him.

 

“Tomorrow,” Bruce says firmly. “Right now, I really want to sleep.”

 

Tony sighs dramatically. “The magic is gone.”

 

He almost expects the pillow to the face, although it doesn’t quite muffle his laughter.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce wakes to Tony’s cell phone buzzing on the nightstand. “You going to get that?” he asks sleepily.

 

“You get it,” Tony mumbles. “Whoever wants me can wait.”

 

The phone falls silent, and Bruce presses his face to the back of Tony’s neck. “Crisis averted.”

 

A minute later, the phone starts buzzing again, and Bruce waits for Tony to get it. “Seriously, no,” Tony mumbles.

 

Bruce reaches over Tony, thinking that he should at least determine if it’s an emergency. He’s not sure Tony’s even awake enough to make the call.

 

“H’lo?”

 

“Dr. Banner, I was hoping to get you on the phone.”

 

Bruce immediately recognizes Agent Coulson’s voice, and he frowns, “How did you get this number?”

 

“We have our ways,” Coulson replies. “And I thought this might be the best way to reach you. It’s been a month.”

 

Bruce realizes that it _has_ been a month—he’d barely noticed that so much time had gone by—and that he has a promise to keep.

 

“I’ll meet you somewhere, and we can talk,” Bruce offers.

 

“I could come to you,” Coulson says.

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bruce replies. “I’m thinking more of a public place. Coffee is good.”

 

Coulson’s voice doesn’t betray even the barest flicker of irritation. “Coffee it is. I’ll text the address. Can you meet this afternoon?”

 

“Sure.” Bruce ends the call and closes his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts.

 

“Who was that?” Tony asks, sounding alert for the first time.

 

“Agent Coulson,” Bruce replies. “He reminded me of my promise. I’m meeting with him this afternoon.”

 

Tony grimaces. “You know you don’t have to do that.”

 

“I told him I would, and if they’re actually going to keep the Army off my back, it’s the right thing to do.” Bruce hesitates. “I don’t suppose you want to come with me.”

 

“I’m hiding out,” Tony reminds him. “At least for now. I can send Happy with you.”

 

“I was thinking about bringing Jen,” Bruce admits.

 

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Well, she _is_ an attorney. Pepper keeps telling me that it’s good to involve the lawyers sometimes.”

 

Bruce smiles. “Sometimes, and yeah, I think it might be wise.”

 

“So, take her,” Tony replies.

 

“She knows a little about the Other Guy, but she doesn’t know about you,” Bruce points out. “I’d have to tell her.”

 

Tony narrows his eyes. “You trust her that much?”

 

“I trust her as much as I trust you,” Bruce replies.

 

It must be the right answer, because Tony’s grin is bright with sheer delight. “Okay, then. I trust you, so by extension I trust her. You can tell her.”

 

“Thank you,” Bruce says, running a hand through Tony’s hair. “You getting up now?”

 

“Think I’ll sleep for a little longer,” Tony replies. “Unless you have a better idea.”

 

“I’m hungry,” Bruce replies. “And I should probably check on Jen.”

 

Tony pulls him in for a more thorough kiss, completely ignoring Bruce’s morning breath. “Sure?”

 

“You could always shower with me,” Bruce suggests.

 

“That would involve me leaving the bed.”

 

“Yes, it would,” Bruce agrees.

 

Tony wraps an arm around Bruce. “Or we could do this instead,” he suggests as he flips Bruce onto his back.

 

Bruce doesn’t have a cogent argument for that, and he lets Tony distract him with his hands and mouth.

 

They shower together afterward and throw on clothing. Bruce probably should have ordered more by now, but stuff in his size keeps showing up in Tony’s closet, and he doesn’t question it.

 

Jen is stretched out on the couch when they get out to the living space, but she gets to her feet as soon as she sees Bruce. “Hey,” she says, sounding relieved, and Bruce suspects she’d been worried she’d imagined the last day.

 

He knows that feeling all too well.

 

“Hey,” Bruce replies. “You hungry?”

 

“If you’re cooking,” Jen replies with a grin, wrapping her arms around Bruce in a quick hug, her green eyes almost level with his. “I remember your pancakes.”

 

“I would hope so,” Bruce says. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

 

Tony perches on the counter. “So, tell me about yourself,” he says with a grin, looking at her. “Because I have to say, if I’d known that Bruce had such a hot cousin, I might have waited for you.”

  
Bruce pokes Tony in the side. “Behave.”

 

“Okay, probably not,” Tony admits. “Bruce is irresistible.”

 

Jen clearly doesn’t know quite what she’s supposed to do with that, and she wraps her hands around her mug of coffee. “Um, yay?”

 

“Are you still with Goodman?” Bruce asks, knowing full well that Tony’s just testing her.

 

Jen nods. “Yeah, still working with civil rights litigation. Thankfully, I’m between cases right now.”

 

Bruce can’t hide how relieved he is. “So, you’re staying?”

 

“I’m taking family leave,” Jen says firmly. “I confirmed with my boss today. Unless, of course, Mr. Stark wants to kick me out.”

 

“You’re family,” Tony says, right on cue. “You should stay. And call me Tony.”

 

Jen flashes one of her sincere, shy smiles. “Okay. Tony.”

 

“So maybe we should get this over with,” Tony says. “Your cousin here saved my life by installing an electromagnet in my chest. I replaced it with an arc reactor. Right now, I’m using it to power a suit. I might be a superhero.”

 

Jen glances at Bruce for confirmation, and he shrugs. He would have explained it differently, but Tony’s not inaccurate. “He has a suit of armor,” Bruce says. “And he’s been working to right some wrongs, so if the shoe fits…”

 

Jen nods. “Okay, why are you telling me this? Because you obviously haven’t gone public with the information, even if you’re walking around with a glowing circle in your chest.”

 

The arc reactor shines through Tony’s black tank top, and Bruce can see why Tony’s so willing to come clean. If Jen is going to stay for any length of time, there aren’t a lot of good ways to hide it.

 

At least, no good way that Tony’s willing to go along with.

 

“I need you to come with me,” Bruce explains, cracking a couple of eggs into a bowl. “I have a meeting with a guy from a top secret government agency.”

 

“I’m there,” Jen says immediately. “I mean, if you need me.”

 

“Definitely,” Bruce says. “Tony doesn’t want to go, and it seems like the right call. I want a witness.”

 

Jen grins, and it’s all teeth. “I can do that. You need a lawyer, I’m there.”

 

“You ever think about practicing corporate law?” Tony asks.

 

Jen shakes her head. “No, but I’ve seen the news. Obadiah Stane is claiming that you’re too traumatized to run Stark Industries. If you need me to fight that, I’m happy to help.”

 

Bruce sees Tony’s wince. “How do you know I’m not crazy?”

 

“Well, I can at least see that you have very good taste in men,” Jen says with a smile. “Besides, I’ve represented a lot of people over the years, and you don’t strike me as crazy or unbalanced.”

 

“Wait until you get to know him,” Bruce advises wryly, spooning batter onto the hot griddle. “You might change your mind.”

 

“How you wound me,” Tony says, and although his tone is light, Bruce can read real hurt, carefully masked.

 

Bruce offers an apologetic smile. “Only in the best possible way.”

 

“How long do you think it would take?” Tony asks.

 

Jen thinks for a moment. “Weeks, if not months,” she admits. “It depends on how sympathetic the judge might be to your decision not to make weapons anymore. Right now, Stane has a good case that your time in Afghanistan, and getting blown up by your own weapons, resulted in trauma that’s leading you to act in an uncharacteristic manner.”

 

“Getting blown up by my own weapons helped me see the light,” Tony argues. “That, and seeing my weapons in the hands of terrorists.”

 

Jen nods. “Do you know how the terrorists got their hands on them?”

 

“I’m assuming they bought them,” Tony replies, sounding a little testy.

 

“But do you know who sold them?” Jen asks. “It’s not like they grew wings and flew themselves to Afghanistan. You would expect terrorists to have decommissioned Russian weaponry, but from what I’ve heard they had _a lot_ of your stuff. That means someone is making deliveries.”

 

Tony’s giving her a considering look, and Bruce knows Tony’s surprised at Jen’s quick intelligence. She might not be a scientist, but Bruce knows that her legal mind is capable of taking a lot of pieces and putting them together into a cogent whole very quickly. “We need to get into Obadiah’s computer,” Tony says quietly. “Bruce and I had already talked about that. We need to make sure Obadiah’s not in his office at the time.”

 

“Coulson might know more,” Bruce suggests. “I’ll bet they’re watching Obadiah pretty carefully. I’ll go in with Pepper, like we talked about. We might be able to get the information we need to get a court to overturn the injunction.”

 

“I know what Stane looks like,” Jen says. “But he doesn’t know me. I can watch for him.”

 

Tony rubs his hands together. “Well, it looks like we’ve got a team.”

 

Tony and Jen are equally enthusiastic about Bruce’s pancakes, and Tony says, “I never asked where you learned to cook.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “My mom taught me, and then my aunt did, too.”

 

“I’ve never been able to do much more than make mac and cheese out of a box,” Jen admits cheerfully. “Bruce got the cooking genes.”

 

“Good thing,” Tony replies. “I can’t cook to save my life either.”

 

Right now, more than ever, Bruce feels as though his worlds are colliding.

 

There’s still time before Bruce has to meet Coulson, and Jen says that she has some work to do. Tony invites her to hang out down in the workshop, and Bruce knows it’s not an invitation he extends to everybody.

 

Jen can’t stay forever, of course; her life is in New York, and she’ll go back eventually, but Bruce is beginning to think that he might be able to make the pieces of his life—old and new—fit together.

 

The three of them work in companionable silence for the most part, and when it’s time to leave, Tony says, “Take the Audi. If you need a fast getaway, it will do the job.”

 

Bruce nods. “Stay out of trouble, huh? I won’t be here to save your ass.”

 

“You do the same,” Tony replies. “Look after him, Ms. Walters.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” Jen promises. “Should I be wearing a suit?”

 

Bruce takes in her jeans and college t-shirt. “It might be for the best if he underestimates you, and I’m not changing.”

 

Jen nods. “Good enough.”

 

Bruce gives into the urge to give Tony a quick kiss. “Later.”

 

When they’re in the Audi, heading down the road towards town, Jen says with incredulity, “Tony Stark? Really?”

 

“It just sort of happened,” Bruce replies uncomfortably. “You spend three months in the same cave with someone, and you get to know them.”

 

“I’m not judging,” Jen says quickly. “Really. It’s just that you’re not exactly the sort of guy who has casual relationships, and Tony Stark isn’t the kind of guy to have anything _but_.”

 

Bruce can’t argue with her. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stick around,” he protests. “Besides, we’re friends. It doesn’t have to be anything but casual.”

 

“Except that you guys are clearly inseparable, and I don’t think you’re going to pack up and leave any time soon,” Jen says.

 

Bruce’s hands tighten around the steering wheel. “How’s your love life?” he asks, wanting to deflect.

 

“Nonexistent,” she replies cheerfully enough. “I’ll stop teasing.”

 

“It’s fine,” Bruce replies, forcing himself to relax. He’d forgotten what it was like having her around—they keep each other sane, and that usually involves a healthy amount of teasing.

 

“For what it’s worth, he’s really into you,” Jen offers reassuringly. “I mean, _really_ into you. I could see that pretty clearly.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “It’s okay. Whatever happens, I’m better off than I was a few months ago.”

 

Jen sighs. “Is there anything I should know about this guy we’re going to meet?”

 

“Secret government agent,” Bruce says. “Wears a suit. He knows what happened to me, and I’m pretty sure he knows what happened to Tony.”

 

“Okay, and if he tries something?” Jen asks anxiously.

 

Bruce glances at her. “Run, and call Tony.”

 

“I’m not going to just leave you!” Jen protests.

 

“There is literally _nothing_ he can do to kill me, and Tony will know how to get me out,” Bruce replies. “I don’t want you hurt.”

 

“How do you know?” Jen argues. “You can’t know that there’s nothing that can hurt you.”

 

Bruce grimaces. “Yes, I do.”

 

“Oh,” Jen says faintly as she realizes what he means. “Bruce…”

 

“Don’t.”

 

“I get why you didn’t, but—I wish you’d called me,” Jen says after a long pause. “I hate that you had to go through that alone.”

 

Bruce smiles at her. “I’m not alone anymore.”

 

“No, you’re not,” Jen agrees.

 

The tension in the car eases, and Bruce soon pulls up in front of the coffee shop. He spots Coulson through the window and takes a deep breath. “If things get hairy—”

 

“I will run and call Tony,” Jen finishes. “Swear.”

 

“Okay, then. Let’s do this.”

 

They order coffee—black with room for cream for Bruce, and a caramel macchiato for Jen—before they join Coulson.

 

Coulson, who smiles and says, “It’s a pleasure to met you, Ms. Walters,” before Bruce can introduce her.

 

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Agent Coulson,” Bruce says sourly.

 

“I felt as though it might be prudent to not lie,” Coulson replies easily. “And I think you’re probably aware that we’re keeping a close eye on things.”

 

“Does that include me?” Jen asks sharply. “Because there’s a word for that, and it’s ‘unconstitutional.’”

 

“We’re looking for threats to Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark,” Coulson replies equably. “That necessitates keeping a watch on them. It’s for their own good.”

 

“I’ve heard that before,” Jen replies severely. “I rarely believe it.”

 

“You can believe it when I say it,” Coulson says, steel in his voice.

 

Jen doesn’t so much as blink. “I think you’re going to need to prove that.”

 

Coulson abruptly smiles. “I like you, Ms. Walters. If you ever get tired of your job, you should come work for us. We need people with your talents.”

 

“Like you need me,” Bruce inserts, wanting to divert Coulson’s attention from Jen to himself. “You kept your promise. I want to know what your organization wants from us.”

 

“Do you really think that you and Stark are the only people with unique gifts?” Coulson asks sounding faintly surprised. “We’re of the opinion that people like you should have the opportunity to use your skills and talents to help others.”

 

Bruce frowns. “You mean you want to use us.”

 

“I mean that we’re fundamentally opposed to locking you up in a lab somewhere,” Coulson replies. “Your actions in Afghanistan prove that you have more control than the Army believes. You saved Stark’s life. We want you both on board.”

 

“What’s the catch?” Bruce asks suspiciously.

 

“We hope you’ll help save the earth if necessary,” Coulson replies. “In exchange, we keep the Army off your doorstep, and offer whatever other help we can.”

 

Bruce doesn’t quite trust Coulson, but he’s willing to go with it, at least for now. “Okay,” he agrees. “Starting now, then. What do you know about Obadiah Stane’s activities?”

 

“We know he returned from Afghanistan yesterday,” Coulson replies. “And that he’s made some questionable sales overseas.”

 

“We need to get him out of his office for a while,” Bruce says, leaning across the table. “Can you help?”

 

Coulson hesitates, and then nods. “I think we can do that.”

 

And Bruce begins to think that they might just manage to get Stark Industries back and stop Stane.

 

~~~~~

 

Pepper is a little surprised to find the house empty when she arrives. Jennifer’s rental car is still parked in the driveway, but no one answers when she calls out.

 

“Dr. Banner and Ms. Walters left to meet with Agent Coulson,” Jarvis informs her.

 

“And Tony?”

 

“Mr. Stark will return shortly.”

 

Pepper frowns. Jarvis is being strangely evasive, but she knows better than to press. “Thank you, Jarvis. Will you let me know when he returns?”

 

“Of course, Miss Potts,” Jarvis replies smoothly.

 

She makes a pot of coffee and settles down to get some work done while she waits for Tony to return. She’s still working a couple of hours later, but no one has returned yet.

 

Out of curiosity, she heads down to Tony’s workshop and keys in her code. It’s empty, as is one of the parking spaces, the one where Tony normally keeps the Audi, although the rest of the cars are present.

 

That puzzles her, since she assumes Bruce and Jennifer must have taken the Audi, which doesn’t explain Tony’s absence—and then he comes roaring into the workshop via the ramp, wearing the suit of armor Pepper has only seen once before.

 

Not that Tony knows she’s seen it. She’d let herself into the workshop only to find the ‘bots and Bruce working on getting Tony out of it.

 

Bruce and Tony had been talking in low, intense tones, and then they’d kissed with Tony half out of the armor, and Pepper had backed out silently. She hasn’t told Tony that she knows about the suit, which is probably why his expression is almost comically dismayed when he flips up the faceplate. “So, I can explain.”

 

“You made a suit of armor,” Pepper replies calmly. “I’ve seen it before.”

 

Tony frowns. “When?”

 

“When you were kissing Bruce.”

 

“Oh, right.” Tony grins. “Yeah, that was good. I didn’t realize you were there.”

 

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Pepper replies. “Are you going to have any trouble getting out of the armor this time?”

 

“No damage,” Tony replies. “Give me a minute.”

 

Pepper watches as the ‘bots get Tony out of the armor smoothly, and when he’s out, Tony snaps his fingers at Dum-E. “I need one of those shakes, pronto.”

 

She knows better than to suggest Tony eat real food. She has to draw the line somewhere; she can’t be Tony’s mother.

 

Having Bruce around seems to help, since he has no problem nudging Tony in the direction of food or a bed when necessary.

 

“What were you doing?” Pepper asks.

 

“I needed to go out,” Tony replies. “Bruce was gone, and I wanted space. I thought I’d take some of the upgrades for a test run.”

 

Pepper nods. “Jarvis said that Bruce and Ms. Walters left.”

 

“To talk to Agent Coulson,” Tony confirms. “And to work out the terms of our surrender, probably.”

 

“Do you really think that?” Pepper asks, feeling a spike of worry.

 

“I don’t know what I think,” Tony replies. “But I trust Bruce to be cautious, and his cousin will probably keep him from doing anything stupid.”

 

Pepper nods. “I hope that’s true. Can I help?”

 

Tony hesitates. “Yes, you can, but it’s dangerous.”

 

“Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll tell you if I can do it,” Pepper replies calmly. “You know I’ll do anything I can.”

 

“I need you to go to my office and get into the shipping records,” Tony says. “I have a flash drive. All you have to do is plug it in and let the program run. Bruce will go with you, and he’ll keep you safe, but you know the layout. You can get in and out.”

 

Pepper knows why Tony’s asking this of her, that it’s because his weapons were used recently, after he’d insisted Stark Industries stop making or selling weapons. He needs to know whether Obadiah had known about the sales, or if it had been an unfortunate coincidence.

 

And really, it makes sense that Pepper would be the one to go—she knows the building, and she can use the access codes. She’s Tony’s assistant, but she’d helped Obadiah out in the past. She can manage it.

 

“Bruce doesn’t have to go with me,” Pepper says quietly.

 

“Maybe, but if Obadiah attacks _him_ , he can’t be hurt,” Tony says, his tone matching hers. “You can.”

 

Intellectually, Pepper understands that Bruce turns into someone who’s big, green, angry, and impervious to damage. In practice, Pepper has a hard time reconciling that fact with the shy, somewhat uncertain Bruce she’s come to know.

 

Of course, that’s the paradox of Bruce Banner—he’s a mild mannered, easygoing scientist until he’s not.

 

“Is he safe?” Pepper asks.

 

Tony shrugs. “The Hulk liked me well enough, and that’s after I’d spent three months in a cave with Bruce. Bruce likes you. He’ll take care of you.”

 

“Okay,” Pepper says. “How are we going to know that Obadiah is out?”

 

“Jennifer is going to keep watch,” Tony replies. “Obadiah doesn’t know her, and no one would look twice at her rental car. She’ll leave as soon as they return from seeing Coulson.”

 

Pepper nods. “I’ll do it.”

 

Tony’s shoulders slump. “Thanks, Pep. I know I owe you a lot, and this is above and beyond, but I have to know.”

 

Pepper takes a couple of steps forward, closing the distance between them to place her hands on Tony’s shoulders. “I’ll do it,” she repeats.

 

Tony glances away. “Okay.”

 

Pepper is well acquainted with Tony’s issues; he expects everyone to abandon him or betray him, and recent events haven’t helped much. He generally suspects everyone of using him for his money, and doesn’t trust that people like him for who he is, so he puts up a front.

 

She’s used to that, and she’s learned to read between the lines over the years. She thinks that Bruce probably has, too, but much faster, because circumstances had allowed him to take a short cut.

 

But the truth is, no matter how frustrated Pepper might get with Tony, she can’t turn her back on him. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to do that.

 

“We’re going to fix this,” Pepper insists. “You’re not alone.”

 

As if right on cue, Bruce drives the Audi into the garage and parks, climbing into the car. “Hey. Did you explain?”

 

“Pepper is on board,” Tony replies. “You’ll probably want to wear a suit. You’ll blend in better.”

 

“That’s why I’m here,” Bruce says. “Jen’s already there, so we should really get moving.”

 

It suddenly strikes Pepper as odd that they’re essentially talking about running a surveillance mission. “Isn’t this better left to the professionals?” she asks.

 

Bruce offers a rueful shrug. “If it makes you feel any better, she’s with Coulson, just in case. But it’s going to be a little harder to explain his presence than yours as far as getting into the office goes.”

 

“Plus, we are professionals,” Tony insists. “We can handle this. Go find a suit, Bruce. I don’t care which one.”

 

“You sure?” Bruce asks. “There’s a chance I’ll ruin it.”

 

Tony shrugs. “No big deal.”

 

Bruce nods. “I’ll meet you upstairs, Pepper.”

 

“Happy’s going to drive you guys,” Tony says. “If things go south, he can get you out of there. Coulson will look after Jen.”

 

“What about you?” Pepper asks.

 

Tony shrugs. “If you get the information, I’ll come to you. I all but promised Bruce I’d have a conversation with Coulson anyway.”

 

Pepper wonders what they’re going to find on Obadiah’s computer, and how Tony’s going to deal with it. “Are you ready for this?”

 

“No,” Tony says bluntly. “I think it’s going to be fucking awful, but I’ve got you and Bruce in my corner.”

 

And maybe that’s why Tony _hasn’t_ gone crazy after his experiences in Afghanistan—press conference and new direction notwithstanding. Pepper understands why he’d made that decision, even if no one else but Bruce does, but he’s handling this situation better than she might have expected.

 

“Okay,” Pepper says quietly. “We’ll call you when we know something more.”

 

“Good luck,” Tony replies. “Be careful.”

 

Pepper smiles. “I’ll have Bruce with me. That seems to make a difference.”

 

Bruce is waiting for her upstairs, wearing one of Tony’s gray suits, a purple shirt and matching striped tie.

 

“You look nice,” Pepper says.

 

Bruce shrugs. “I just hope that Tony doesn’t mind if I have to transform. The suit won’t survive.”

 

“Well, he doesn’t wear purple all that often,” Pepper replies. “Ready to go?”

 

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Bruce says.

 

They’re in the back of the limo when Bruce says, “I need to tell you something.”

 

Pepper frowns. “Okay.”

 

“If things go south, and I have to change, you need to not run away. I know that’s easier said than done, but as far as I can tell, he attacks when people are aggressive, or when they show fear.”

 

Bruce speaks quickly, not looking at her, sounding uncertain and unhappy.

 

“No fear, no aggression,” Pepper agrees, and puts a hand over his, where it’s resting on his jiggling knee. “I’ve got it. Tony trusts you, and he doesn’t trust many people.”

 

Bruce gives her a quick, grateful smile. “Thanks.”

 

She hears a cell phone ring, and Bruce pulls a very low-tech phone out of his pocket; she knows it’s not one of Tony’s. “Yeah?” he says, and then pauses. “Okay, thanks.”

 

Bruce tucks the phone away. “That was Jen. Obadiah left the office just now. Happy, how fast can we get there?”

 

“Faster than you think, doc,” Happy replies, and puts on the gas.

 

“The cell phone isn’t one of Tony’s,” Pepper observes quietly. “He would have given you something a lot fancier.”

 

Bruce smiles. “It’s a burner from Agent Coulson. I think he might be even more paranoid than I am.”

 

“I suppose that comes with the territory,” Pepper replies, sharing a smile with Bruce.

 

They spend the rest of the ride in companionable silence, and soon enough, Happy is pulling up in front of Stark Industries’ main office.

 

Bruce stays half a step behind her as they enter the building, and when Pepper glances at him, he’s wearing a pleasantly neutral expression. He doesn’t look at all out of place, and she wonders if that’s how he’s survived—by looking like he’s always right where he belongs.

 

Tony’s office is empty, and Pepper slips inside, Bruce at her heels. He closes the door behind them and follows her over to the desk.

 

 When Pepper plugs in the flash drive, the screen flashes a warning. “Is it supposed to do that?” she asks.

 

“Give it a minute,” Bruce replies. “Jen promised to call if Obadiah returns.”

 

“Access Granted,” replaces the warning, and the program begins running. Pepper isn’t sure what she’s seeing—weapons schematics, of course, but there are receipts of sales, too, that flash by too quickly to read. What she does see seems pretty damning, however.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Bruce mutters when the program opens another file, this one with schematics that look like some kind of armor.

 

“What is it?” Pepper asks.

 

“It looks like the first suit of armor,” Bruce says grimly. “But bigger.”

 

Another file opens, this time a video.

 

“Shut it down,” Bruce orders after only a couple of seconds, before Pepper can figure out what it is. “Copy the files and shut it down _right now_.”

 

Pepper obeys immediately, something in Bruce’s voice telling her not to argue or question. “What is it?” she asks as she types the command to copy.

 

“That was Afghanistan,” Bruce replies, sounding a little calmer. “Obadiah is responsible for Tony’s capture.”

 

Pepper pulls out the flash drive, and Bruce hustles her out. As soon as they’re in the back of the limo, he pulls out his cell phone. “Jen? I need to talk to Agent Coulson. We need to meet right now.”

 

“What are we doing?” Pepper asks.

 

“We’re handing over the evidence, and we’re stopping Obadiah,” Bruce replies, putting a hand over his phone. “But I don’t think Tony should be alone right now.”

 

Pepper glances at him, alarmed. “Do you really think Obadiah would go after him?”

 

“One second,” Bruce says into the phone, and turns to look at Pepper. “I know that Stane set Tony up in Afghanistan. And I don’t want to give him a second bite at the apple.”

 

Pepper nods. “I’ll call Tony and have him meet us.”

 

She can hear Bruce talking with Coulson to arrange a meeting place as she dials Tony’s number, but there’s no answer.

 

When Bruce ends the call, he glances at her. “What happened?”

 

“There’s no response,” Pepper replies. “But I know Tony was going to wait for my call.”

 

“I can leave you with Coulson,” Bruce says. “I’ll go back.”

 

“No,” Pepper says. “Let me call Rhodey. He might be able to get there faster than we can.”

 

Bruce nods. “Okay. Do it.”

 

Pepper nods and dials Rhodey’s number. “Rhodey, it’s Pepper,” she says. “I need you to check on Tony. We found evidence that Obadiah might want to kill him, and he’s not answering his phone.”

 

“Are you serious?” Rhodey asks incredulously. “Why would Obadiah do that?”

 

“To take over the company, I don’t know,” Pepper replies. “We’re meeting with a federal agent to turn over the evidence, but Tony’s alone at the house right now.”

 

“Who’s ‘we?’” Rhodey asks suspiciously.

 

“Me and Bruce,” Pepper says. “Please, Rhodey.”

 

Rhodey sighs. “I’m on my way now, and I’m maybe twenty or thirty minutes out. I wanted to check in with him.”

 

Pepper heaves a sigh of relief. “Okay. Let us know if he’s all right.”

 

“When can he be there?” Bruce demands.

 

“Twenty or thirty minutes.”

 

Bruce lets out a breath. “Okay, that’s okay. That’s faster than we’d manage. We’ll meet with Coulson, and he can send people after Obadiah.”

 

Pepper nods. “It’s all going to be fine.”

 

She has to believe that.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony had been expecting Pepper’s call; he isn’t expecting the strange buzzing or the paralysis that hits him out of the blue. He feels as though he can’t breathe, his heart is pounding, and his muscles and joints have locked up.

 

“Breathe, breathe,” Obadiah says softly, catching Tony and easing him onto the couch, holding up a small device in front of Tony’s face. “Remember this? It’s a pity the military shelved this project; there are so many applications for short term paralysis.”

 

Tony feels as though he can’t quite get a full breath, and he’s only half-listening to Obadiah.

 

“I wasn’t sure if this would work against Dr. Banner, so it’s just as well he isn’t here,” Obadiah continues. “Do you know how many weapons we made to use against the Hulk? Seems ironic that he’d wind up saving your life.”

 

Sheer terror fills him as Obadiah fits a device over the arc reactor. “Even more ironic that he helped you build something that has enough power to take him down.”

 

Tony gasps as Obadiah turns the device and pulls the arc reactor free. “When I put the hit out on you, I worried that I was killing the goose, but it turns out that you had one last golden egg. Your father helped give us the atomic bomb, but the power in arc reactor technology will give us even more bang for our buck.”

 

Obadiah jerks the arc reactor free. “The Army is going to give me a medal when I hand over the Hulk, and your legacy will be a new breed of weapons that puts the balance of power back in our hands.”

 

Tony can only gasp as Obadiah packs the arc reactor away, and while he’s worried for himself, he’s even more worried for Bruce. Tony knows the Hulk is impervious to bullets and explosions, but the arc reactor packs more of a punch. For all he knows, it might be the one thing that could fell the Hulk.

 

Obadiah leaves with a last parting shot of, “I’ll tell Dr. Banner you said hello.”

 

Tony has no idea how long it is before the paralysis begins to wear off, and he can start lurching towards the elevator, every muscle aching, and every nerve on fire.

 

It takes forever, and every second that passes gives Obadiah a head start, and gives him a better chance to kill Bruce.

 

He falls getting out of the elevator and doesn’t have the strength to stand up again, so he crawls.

 

Pepper’s gift is on the workbench, and all Tony has to do is get to it. It doesn’t have as much power as the one Obadiah stole, but it will keep him alive, and it will power the suit. It might even be enough to stop Obadiah.

 

He’s nearly there, and he tries to push himself up using a tub of tools, trying to get his legs under him. They give out and he falls back. Tony stretches up again, trying for the magazine the old arc reactor sits on top of.

 

He misses and falls back, and he wonders if this is how he’s going to die—after surviving Afghanistan and the desert and everything else, he’ll die alone on his workshop’s floor, leaving Stark Industries in Obadiah’s hands. Leaving his greatest legacy to be used to make more weapons of mass destruction.

 

There’s a solicitous whir and beep, and Dum-E brings the glass box to Tony’s eye level.

 

“Good boy,” Tony whispers, and takes the box, smashing it against the floor.

 

He manages to get the arc reactor in place in spite of his trembling hands, but he can’t quite bring himself to move just yet.

 

“Tony! Tony! Where are you?”

 

Tony recognizes Rhodey’s voice, but he’s having trouble finding the strength to respond. “Tony,” Rhodey says, closer now, and he feels Rhodey roll him over, helping him sit up. “Are you okay?”

 

“I need to get to Bruce and Pepper,” Tony gasps.

 

“Pepper was the one who called me,” Rhodey replies. “She’s with Bruce, and they were meeting with some agents. They’re fine.”

 

“They’re not going to be fine for long,” Tony insists. “Obadiah’s going after Bruce.”

 

Rhodey frowns. “I know what Bruce is, Tony. Do you really think Obadiah can hurt him?”

 

“With the arc reactor, I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out,” Tony says. “The Army wants to take him apart, and Obadiah wants to do it first. Help me up. I need to get into the suit.”

 

“You sure you can do this?” Rhodey asks, pulling Tony to his feet and steadying him.

 

Tony nods. “I’m sure. I have to.”

 

Rhodey frowns. “You should let the agents handle it.”

 

“They don’t know what they’re getting themselves into. Jarvis, I need to suit up.” His muscles and joints still ache, and he’s not feeling great, but he’s not about to let that stop him. He’s feeling better with every passing minute, and he needs to get to Bruce.

 

Rhodey watches the suit close around Tony with a look of awe. “That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

“Not bad, huh?” Tony asks.

 

“Do you need me to do anything else?” Rhodey asks.

 

“Keep the skies clear,” Tony replies. “I’ll do the rest.”

 

He flies up through the hole in the floor, up into the night sky. “Jarvis, call Pepper.”

 

“Tony, are you okay?” she demands as soon as she picks up. “What happened?”

 

“Obadiah got the arc reactor, so I’m using the old one. I think he’s going after Bruce,” Tony says.

 

“We’re at the main research facility now,” Pepper replies. “Agent Coulson is going to arrest Obadiah based on the evidence we gathered.”

 

“You aren’t going to have enough firepower,” Tony says, his fear for Pepper and Bruce increasing. “Is Bruce with you?”

 

There’s a rustle, and Bruce says, “Tony. Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Tony says. “But Obadiah is coming after you.”

 

“Let him come,” Bruce replies fiercely. “He was the one who tried to have you killed, Tony.”

 

“And you’re next on his list,” Tony replies seriously. “I want you out of the line of fire.”

 

Bruce snorts. “Not likely. I’m not leaving you to deal with him on your own. Besides, we might beat Obadiah there.”

 

“I hope you do,” Tony replies. “Just—be careful, okay?”

 

“See you soon,” Bruce promises and ends the call.

 

Tony notices that Bruce hadn’t promised to be careful, and he tries not to worry.

 

~~~~~

 

Over the last few years, Jennifer’s life has been fairly boring. She’s had some interesting, high profile cases that had been challenging and took all her skill, but that had been part of her work as an attorney. It had definitely _not_ involved staking out a company like Stark Industries with some kind of secret agent from an organization she’s never heard of.

 

“So, is this a typical day for you?” Jennifer asks Agent Coulson, just to pass the time.

 

Coulson glances over at her. “In this line of work, there’s no such thing as a typical day.”

 

He says it with absolutely no inflection, so Jennifer has no idea if he’s kidding or not. She’s guessing probably not.

 

“This is not really something I do, you know,” Jennifer offers. “Stakeouts, I mean.”

 

“I’m sure it’s not, Ms. Walters,” Coulson replies.

 

“Right.” She knows why she’s doing this with Coulson—Obadiah Stane won’t recognize either of them if he happens to see them. Plus, it looks slightly less suspicious to have two people sitting in a car, almost like they’re together, rather than watching the building. “Shouldn’t we at least pretend to have a conversation?”

 

“Probably,” Coulson replies pleasantly. “What would you like to have a conversation about?”

 

“Were you being honest about being able to protect Bruce?” Jennifer asks.

 

Coulson looks at her. “I wouldn’t lie about that, and we’d rather the Army not get their hands on someone like Dr. Banner.”

 

“And are you going to use him?” she counters, feeling a sense of calm settle over her. She’s in her element when she’s cross-examining a witness, looking out for her client’s interests.

 

Or, in this case, Bruce’s interests, because someone needs to.

 

“Only if we have to,” Coulson replies, and that’s as honest of an answer as Jennifer could wish for, even if it isn’t the answer she would have liked to hear.

 

Jennifer stares out the window, looking at the front of the building. “What happened to Bruce—someone’s always going to want to use him.”

 

It’s a statement, not a question, and Coulson gives her a sympathetic look. “I think that’s a given.”

 

“So, you’re the best bet he’s got,” Jennifer says.

 

“I’m afraid so, Ms. Walters.” Coulson actually sounds a little apologetic about that.

 

“Right, great.” Jennifer sits up straight as she spots Stane leaving the building. “Oh, hey, there he is.”

 

She calls Bruce to let him know, and watches as Stane drives away. “Are we going to follow him?”

 

“No, we’re not,” Coulson replies, starting the car. “We’re going back to the office, and we’re going to wait for Dr. Banner and Miss Potts.”

 

“Right,” Jennifer says. “Well, you’re the secret agent. I guess you know how this works.”

 

“It is my job,” Coulson agrees.

 

“I’m just thinking, shouldn’t we wait for Bruce and Miss Potts to get done?”

 

Coulson smiles. “I have another agent taking our place. It wouldn’t do for Mr. Stane to come back and still see us here.”

 

“Oh, right. I didn’t even think of that,” Jennifer says, feeling stupid. “And I should have. Sorry. I just got Bruce back, you know?”

 

Coulson gives her a look that she thinks is meant to be reassuring. “Don’t worry, Ms. Walters.”

 

“I’m an attorney,” she responds. “Worrying is in my job description.”

 

The office Coulson brings her to is nondescript, and looks like any other multi-level office building with a collection of doctor’s offices and CPA firms and the odd solo law practice. Coulson’s office is on the top floor, and there’s a middle-aged receptionist out front, wearing a dull brown suit.

 

Jennifer is pretty sure the receptionist is supposed to be blending into the scenery. It’s working.

 

“This is Ms. Walters,” Coulson says.

 

The receptionist nods. Coulson doesn’t bother introducing them further.

 

“This way,” Coulson says, and ushers her into a bland room with a prefab desk and what looks like an ancient PC.

 

Jennifer can’t shake the feeling that this is all a front. “So, is this how a secret agency stays secret? By looking like a really boring CPA firm?”

 

Coulson smiles. “No one looks twice at an accountant.”

 

“I guess not,” Jennifer says. “So, we just wait here.”

 

“I think that’s for the best,” Coulson replies. “My men will call if there’s any trouble.”

 

Jennifer raises her eyebrows. “I don’t suppose you have a deck of cards. I probably should have brought a book or something, but I’m new to the whole stakeout thing.”

 

“I don’t have a deck of cards, no,” Coulson replies.

 

“Small talk?” Jennifer offers.

 

Coulson raises his eyebrows.

 

“Right, not the sort for small talk.” Jennifer rubs her hands on the legs of her jeans.

 

“Have you ever thought about working for the government?” Coulson asks.

 

Jennifer laughs. “Actually, I’d rather reserve the right to sue the government if necessary, especially if you go after Bruce.”

 

Coulson smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Think about it,” he says. “You’re the sort of person we want to have on our side.”

 

Coming from Coulson, Jennifer thinks that’s probably meant to be a huge compliment. “I’ll tell you what,” she says. “I’ll keep the offer in mind.”

 

And she will, because maybe it means she can keep Bruce safe, and she’ll do whatever it takes—whether that’s going on stakeouts, or thinking about working for a secret government agency, or—well. She doesn’t know. But considering a job opportunity doesn’t hurt anybody.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce loosens his tie as he enters the office building, opening the door for Pepper, and then he gives up and yanks it free, shoving it in his pocket.

 

He’s still feeling on edge from seeing the video. He’d recognized Tony immediately, and the surroundings, _and_ the voice of the man who had been the only one to speak English. He’d known at once what it meant that Obadiah would have that file saved when everyone else had insisted that there had been no ransom demand.

 

It’s not going to take much to push Bruce over the edge, and he’s hanging onto his temper by his fingernails.

 

But they don’t need the Other Guy right now; they need _Bruce_ , and he’s not going to let Tony down.

 

The receptionist makes a call when they enter, and Coulson comes out to meet them. “This way,” he says.

 

Jen is on her feet as soon as Bruce enters, hugging him tightly.

 

Bruce isn’t used to this ready affection anymore, but he can’t say he minds. He counts three people who care whether he lives or dies at this point, which is three more than he’s had in recent years.

 

“I’m okay,” he says, and feels himself calming. “We’re fine.”

 

Jen pulls back. “Good. Did you find what you were looking for?”

 

“More than we’d hoped,” Bruce admits. “More than we wanted to find, actually.”

 

Pepper hands the jump drive to Coulson, who plugs it into his ancient-looking computer. The screen has a much higher resolution than it should have, and the data loads quickly.

 

Jen has crowded in behind the computer, and she gives Bruce a knowing look. Bruce figures they’re both expecting that kind of subterfuge from a secret agent.

 

Bruce pulls up the video file first, because that’s the most damning evidence. Coulson doesn’t need a translator. He watches it all the way through once, and then makes a call.

 

“I need a full team to scramble and meet me at headquarters,” he says. “Our intel on Obadiah Stane was incomplete, and we need to take him into custody immediately.” When he hangs up, Coulson asks, “What else?”

 

Bruce quickly pulls up the plans Obadiah had saved for the Sector 16 project. “He’s building a suit of armor, and it’s bigger and badder than Tony’s. At least, I’m sure Stane thinks it is.”

 

“How do you know it’s not?” Coulson asks.

 

“Because I helped build it,” Bruce replies. “Tony’s suit is more—imaginative, and he’s taken it for a couple of test drives to work out the kinks. I’d put my money on Tony, at least assuming that Obadiah can’t get his hands on an arc reactor.”

 

“Where is this place?” Coulson asks.

 

“Sector 16 is in the main research facility,” Pepper replies. “I can get you in.”

 

“I’m coming with you,” Bruce inserts. “If Stane got his hands on the arc reactor already, you might need me.”

 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Coulson replies. “But I take your point.”

 

Jen frowns. “What about me? Because I’m not staying here.”

 

Bruce doesn’t want her anywhere near the scene of battle, but he recognizes the expression on her face. She’s not going to take no for an answer, and if he tries to force her to stay, it’s not going to be pleasant.

 

“You can come, but you have to stay in the car,” Coulson says firmly.

 

Bruce thinks that Coulson may have taken a shine to his cousin. “I will definitely stay in the car,” Jen promises.

 

Bruce doesn’t believe her for a moment, but he’s not going to say so in front of everybody else. They head for the cars, and Bruce takes Jen’s elbow. “This is going to get messy,” he warns her. “And you’re probably not going to like what you see.”

 

“Is this about your little problem?” Jen asks. “Because I can handle it, you know. You’re my cousin, and I love you, and I don’t _care_.”

 

“I know you,” Bruce replies. “And I know you’re not going to stay in the car, so I’m going to give you the same advice I gave Pepper. The Other Guy doesn’t like fear, and he doesn’t like aggression. Don’t run, and don’t fight, and you’ll probably be okay.”

 

Jen glances at him. “What did he think of Tony? You spent three months in a cave with him, and I’m assuming he saw the Other Guy, as you call him.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “According to Tony, the Other Guy likes him. That’s mostly how I know these things. Before this, everybody either ran, or shot at him.”

 

“I told you—I don’t care,” Jen says fiercely. “You’re still _you_.”

 

“I hope you still feel that way when this is over,” Bruce replies pessimistically.

 

Happy is still driving them, and he pushes the speed limit on the way to the main research facility, while Bruce sits in tense silence in the passenger seat, and Pepper and Jen in the back. He’s glad he doesn’t have to drive; he feels too tense to take the wheel.

 

He’s not going to be at ease until he knows Tony is in one piece.

 

They’ve just pulled up to the research facility when Pepper’s phone rings, and she answers with, “Tony, are you okay?”

 

Pepper has a brief exchange with Tony, and then she hands the phone to Bruce, who has a brief, intense argument with him. Bruce doesn’t promise to be careful, because he can’t, not if Tony’s going to be in danger, and it doesn’t matter anyway.

 

Bruce will either live, or he’ll die. And if Tony dies, Bruce isn’t sure he’ll have a reason to live. But the fact remains that they can’t let Obadiah carry out his plans. If Stane uses the arc reactor technology to build weapons of mass destruction, the world won’t be worth living in anyway.

 

Jen gets out of the car when they do, telling Bruce, “Don’t get killed, okay? I’m not losing you again so soon.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” he promises, because he’s doing this at least partly for Jen. “Keep your head down.”

 

Jen nods. “I’m not saying goodbye.”

 

“Me neither,” Bruce says. “I’ll see you later.”

 

He follows Pepper and Coulson inside, the other agents flanking them. Pepper uses her key card to get them through a series of locked doors until she’s stymied by the lock on Sector 16.

 

“My key isn’t working,” Pepper says.

 

“I’ve got it,” Coulson replies, and places what Bruce can only assume is an explosive device on the door. They back up a few steps, and the device detonates with a quieter bang than Bruce had anticipated.

 

When the door swings open, Coulson orders, “Stay behind us.”

 

He’s all quiet competence, and Bruce nods. He’ll let Coulson take the lead for now, but he suspects the Other Guy will be needed before it’s all over.

 

He waits with Pepper just inside the door as Coulson calls out, “Obadiah Stane? You’re under arrest for attempted murder, kidnapping, conspiracy, and treason.”

 

“I doubt Stane will surrender,” Bruce says quietly to Pepper. “Remember what I said, okay?”

 

Pepper nods. “I know. I’ve got it.”

 

There’s no immediate response, and then Bruce hears a clank, the firing of weapons, and the sound of metal against metal.

 

“We need to stay out of this,” Bruce insists, grabbing her arm when it looks like Pepper is going in. “I know how much this sucks, but right now, Obadiah doesn’t know how involved you are, and I think it would be best to keep it that way.”

 

He maintains that stance through the sounds of metal crashing against metal, and the breaking of concrete, holding Pepper in place because he likes her, and he wants her to stay safe.

 

And honestly, he knows that if he sees Obadiah, he won’t be responsible for his actions.

 

They hear a crash outside, and Bruce swears. “Jennifer!”

 

He’s now regretting his decision to stay out of things, and to leave Jen in the car, but when he runs out of the building, Jen is nowhere to be seen.

 

“Fuck,” Bruce says, catching sight of a large dent in the concrete. “Fuck.”

 

“Bruce!”

 

Jen’s voice is a welcome relief. “Jennifer!”

 

“Bruce!” Jennifer comes around the side of the building, throwing herself at Bruce. “You’re okay.”

 

“I’m fine,” Bruce insists. “But you guys have to get under cover, okay?”

 

“What about you?” Pepper demands.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “Tony might need me.”

 

“Does he have your cell phone number?” Pepper demands.

 

Bruce winces, because he really should have managed to get Tony that number before they went in. “No.”

 

“Then we’re sticking together for right now,” Pepper replies. “If Tony needs us, he’ll let us know.”

 

“Let’s get against the side of the building at least,” Bruce says. “We’ll be out of sight that way.”

 

They stay pressed against the side of the building, hopefully out of sight, although Bruce can hear explosions.

 

Pepper’s phone rings after a few moments. “Hello? Tony?”

 

Bruce lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

“Okay, what? Yes, but—Bruce is with me.” Bruce frowns when he hears her side of the conversations. “Okay, I’ll tell him.”

 

Pepper turns to look at him. “Tony says we have two options—I can either overload the arc reactor in the building, or you can transform.”

 

Bruce breathes slowly. “I don’t think either of those options are great.”

 

“Tony says that he’s low on power, and he doesn’t have a lot of choices,” Pepper replies.

 

“Bruce, it’s okay,” Jen insists. “Can you help Tony stop Stane?”

 

Bruce hesitates, and then nods, because he thinks Tony might be safe from the Other Guy, and Jen and Pepper will probably be okay, too. Any other collateral damage might be worth it to stop Stane. “Yes.”

 

“Then go, we’ll be okay,” Jen replies. “Just go.”

 

“Remember your promise,” Bruce tells Pepper. “Get clear of the building as soon as you can. Where are they?”

 

“On the roof,” Pepper says. “Bruce, are you sure—”

 

“Tony will call you if this doesn’t work,” Bruce replies. He thinks about ditching the jacket, but that seems stupid, since the pants are going to be a wash once he transforms. “Stay out of sight.”

 

There’s a commotion above them, and Bruce realizes that he doesn’t have any more time. “Just, stay out of sight,” he begs. “Please.”

 

“Do it,” Pepper replies. “We’ll be okay. Help Tony.”

 

Bruce nods and moves away from the building. The anger is ever-present, and right at the surface, and he transforms willingly, disappearing in a green haze.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony’s on the roof, warning Pepper off, when he hears a familiar roar.

 

He knows that Bruce hadn’t wanted to transform, hadn’t wanted it to come to this, and he feels guilty momentarily, because he knows Bruce hates turning into the Hulk.

 

Then again, Tony’s not upset about having the assist.

 

The Hulk lands on the roof between Tony and Obadiah, his back to Tony, growling out a warning. Tony stays where he is, because he knows better than to get between the Hulk and his objective.

 

“Just the person I wanted to see,” Obadiah roars, his voice enhanced by his suit. “When I bring you to the Army, they’ll give me whatever I want.”

 

The Hulk bares his teeth and attacks without a word. Tony watches as they swing at each other, and they seem fairly evenly matched. Hulk pounds Obadiah, and Obadiah swings back, firing off whatever missiles he can.

 

Tony watches as the Hulk takes the firepower with a couple of steps backward and responds with a growl, charging Obadiah again. The Hulk isn’t quite as tall as Obadiah’s suit of armor, and he’s not as broad, but he makes a good show. The Hulk punches, and Obadiah punches back, but neither makes much of a dent.

 

Tony wants to intervene, but he knows better, especially once Hulk begins to tear off Obadiah’s armor piece by piece, throwing it aside carelessly. When Hulk manages to pull Obadiah’s helmet off, Obadiah shouts his displeasure and fires up his chest piece.

 

The beam from the arc reactor hits Hulk squarely in the chest and actually throws him backward. The Hulk hits the glass atrium and crashes through, and the resultant explosion throws Tony back to the edge of the roof, where he just manages to hang on.

 

He’s pretty sure he can hear Pepper yelling below, and he knows he doesn’t have enough power left to fly if he falls.

 

At the same time, Obadiah screams out in pain, and Tony can hear him panting. “There goes your guard dog, Tony. Who’s going to save you now?”

 

As though in response, Hulk roars triumphantly, and Tony feels the roof shake. He can’t see over the edge—he’s having trouble pulling himself up, fighting gravity and the weight of the suit—but he hears the grinding of metal on metal, and he hears Obadiah’s gurgled scream.

 

“Hulk saves Metal Man,” comes the deep, rumbling voice. “Hulk smash you!”

 

Tony sees Obadiah sail over the side of the building, still half-encased in the suit, and he hits the ground below with a sickening crunch that means he’s probably not going to survive it.

 

He can’t say he’s upset by the idea.

 

“Metal Man,” Hulk mutters, and a large, green hand grabs Tony’s right arm and hauls him up like he weighs nothing.

 

“Thanks for the assist, buddy,” Tony says immediately. “Awesome job.”

 

“No one hurts Metal Man,” Hulk replies, squatting down on his haunches. “Okay?”

 

Tony lies back, letting his head thump against the hard material of the roof. “Yeah, I think I will be. You okay, Big Guy? I thought he might have hurt you there for a minute.”

 

“Hulk safe,” he says, and settles down next to Tony, apparently having no intention of going anywhere.

 

“Good,” Tony replies wearily. “Stay forever. In fact, you’ve saved my life twice now. What can I do for you? Name it, and if it’s in my power, it’s yours.”

 

Hulk watches him with a puzzled frown. “Metal Man save puny Banner.”

 

Tony half-sits. “What?”

 

Hulk just grunts a reply.

 

“Yeah, okay, so that’s something we have in common I guess, since I think you did that, too,” Tony replies. He’s not quite sure how Hulk thinks Tony saved Bruce, but he’s not inclined to argue.

 

Hulk is still giving him a puzzled look, and he finally lets out what almost be a sigh. “Can’t stay here. Fire.”

 

Hulk gets to his feet and hauls Tony along with him, tucking him under one arm and jumping off the roof.

 

Tony decides he doesn’t really care for flying when he’s not operating under his own power, but he can’t deny that it’s the fastest way to get off the roof.

 

Hulk lands a good distance away from the building, shielding Tony with his body as the building explodes behind them.

 

And then, much as happened the last time Tony had been with Hulk, Hulk falls to his hands and knees on the ground. Tony drops down next to him, and watches as the Hulk shrinks, green skin turning pale, and Tony wishes he could get out of the suit quickly, pull Bruce into his arms, and hold him close.

 

But when the rescue crews swarm them, Tony knows that’s going to have to wait.

 

~~~~~

 

“Oh, shit,” Jennifer breathes out next to Pepper as Bruce changes.

 

His skin turns green, and the suit jacket and shirt burst at the seams. His shoes and pants are shredded in an instant, and he shoots up a couple of feet, growing broader and taller and greener. Pepper gapes, and she knows Jennifer is doing the same thing next to her.

 

Gone is Bruce Banner, and in his place is a mountain of a very green creature.

 

He doesn’t even look twice at them, instead taking a great leap and latching onto the side of the building, scaling it like a child might climb a tree.

 

Pepper grabs Jennifer’s arm and pulls her away from the building. “Come on.”

 

Coulson is waiting for them, his weapon in hand. “Are you okay?” he asks.

 

Pepper nods. “We’re fine. I don’t think the, um…”

 

“He’s been called the Hulk,” Coulson supplies.

 

“He didn’t look twice at us,” Jennifer replies. “I think he was too focused on getting to Tony.”

 

Pepper looks up at the roof, hearing the sounds of a fight above them. She ducks as a piece of metal is thrown off the roof, landing on the pavement just beyond them.

 

“I think we should move farther away,” Coulson says, drawing both of them backward.

 

They stay well back, but even then, another piece of metal lands on the ground, bouncing toward them. The helmet is dented, and definitely not Tony’s, and Pepper begins to think that maybe Tony and Bruce will get out of this in one piece.

 

There’s a huge crash, and what sounds like an explosion, and Pepper takes a step forward. “Tony!” she calls out as she sees Tony’s suited figure tumble over the side of the building, grabbing on to the ledge at the last possible second.

 

“Bruce,” Jennifer says, sounding heartbroken.

 

“He’s okay,” Pepper assures her. “Tony said he didn’t think anything could kill him.”

 

That’s not exactly what Tony had said, but it’s close enough, and she thinks it might be reassuring.

 

“That’s what Bruce said,” Jennifer replies faintly. “But—”

 

Pepper grabs Jennifer’s arm, offering support.

 

They all hear the roar, along with indistinct words, and then a minute or two later, Obadiah’s armored figure is tossed off the side of the building, landing on the pavement with a sickening crunch.

 

Tony disappears, pulled up by a large, green hand, and Pepper heaves a sigh of relief. Clearly, Bruce is in one piece, and so is Tony.

 

Behind them, Coulson is calling for cleanup teams, and Jennifer takes half a step forward before stopping.

 

“Do you think we can get into the building?” she asks hopefully.

 

Pepper pulls her back. “I think it’s on fire.”

 

Jennifer lets out a little sound that seems like a cross between a sob and a laugh. “Right.”

 

Coulson is calling for firefighters, and Pepper gasps as the Hulk leaps off the side of the building, with Tony tucked safely under one arm. Hulk puts himself between the building and Tony, and Coulson calls, “Watch out!”

 

The building explodes, and Pepper throws up an arm to cover her face, grateful that they’d moved so far back.

 

When she opens her eyes again, the Hulk is on his hands and knees next to Tony, the transformation reversing. To Pepper’s untrained eye, it looks painful.

 

Tony hovers next to Bruce, reaching out with a metal-encased hand, but not touching.

 

Jennifer has no such hesitation. She pushes forward past Coulson and the other agents, and Pepper follows, wanting to be sure Bruce and Tony are both in one piece. Jennifer puts her arm around Bruce’s bare shoulders. “Are you okay?”

 

“Fine,” Bruce manages, speaking slowly, his voice gravelly. “’m fine. But maybe I could get some clothes?”

 

Coulson comes forward with a shock blanket from one of the EMTs who have arrived on scene. “You should both get checked out. Mr. Stark, can you get out of the suit?”

 

Tony sighs. “Yeah, I guess I’d better. Can you have someone collect the armor?”

 

“Of course, Mr. Stark. I’d be happy to,” Coulson replies.

 

Jennifer leads Bruce away, tucking the blanket more securely around his shoulders, speaking to him in a low voice.

 

Tony watches them go, and then begins releasing the armor, which peels away in pieces.

 

“Tony,” Pepper murmurs.

 

He sends her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay. Bumps and bruises, but nothing worse.”

 

“And Bruce?”

 

“He’ll be fine,” Tony says. “Just—look, maybe don’t tell Bruce about what happened to Obadiah, okay? I’ll break the news to him later.”

 

Pepper frowns. “It’s not like he had another choice.”

 

“I know that, and everybody else knows that, but I don’t know if Bruce will,” Tony replies, sounding weary.

 

“Then you’ll just have to convince him,” Pepper says briskly, beginning to lead him to one of the waiting ambulances. “You’re good at that.”

 

Tony offers a half-smile. “Yeah, let’s hope so.”

 

~~~~~

 

Jennifer doesn’t know what to think. Bruce had warned her that he turned into something else, but she hadn’t been expecting the Hulk. She hadn’t expected Bruce to turn into a big, green monster.

 

Not that it alters the way she feels about him, because he’s still _Bruce_ , but that doesn’t change what she’s just seen.

 

Bruce clutches the blanket a little closer around his shoulders and waves off the EMT who’s trying to take his blood pressure. “Seriously, I’m fine,” he insists. “I’ve been blown up before.”

 

“I don’t think you’re selling it,” Jennifer says wryly. “Next time, maybe you should leave out the part about getting blown up.”

 

Bruce sighs and holds out an arm for the blood pressure cuff. “Is Tony okay?”

 

Jennifer cranes her neck and sees Tony limping over to another ambulance with Pepper. “It looks like it. The paramedics are looking after him now.”

 

“Good,” Bruce says. “What about Obadiah Stane?”

 

“No idea,” Jennifer lies. “I think the EMTs were working on him.”

 

Bruce doesn’t look like he believes her, but he nods. “Thanks.”

 

“Does he need to go to the hospital?” Jennifer asks. “Because if not, I’d like to take him home.”

 

The EMT shakes her head. “Well, his blood pressure is completely normal, and it doesn’t look like he’s injured.”

 

“I want to go with Tony,” Bruce protests.

 

Jennifer gives him a sympathetic look. “I think you’re a little underdressed.”

 

Bruce glances down at his nearly naked body. “Right. You’re right.”

 

“He’s free to go,” the EMT says. “Just keep an eye on him, and bring him to the hospital if he starts displaying any unusual symptoms.”

 

Jennifer doesn’t ask what “unusual symptoms” might entail, given that Bruce is capable of turning big and green.

 

“Great,” Jennifer says. “Come on, cuz. Let’s find a ride home.”

 

Happy has the car waiting for them. “I talked to the boss,” he says. “Agent Coulson’s going to give them a ride home from the hospital.”

 

“Okay, that sounds good,” Jennifer says. “Thanks, Happy.”

 

“Any time, Ms. Walters,” Happy replies. “How are you feeling, Dr. Banner?”

 

“Like I’ve been run over by a truck,” Bruce replies wryly. “But that’s pretty typical.”

 

Bruce leans his head against the window as Happy drives them back to the mansion, and Jennifer doesn’t speak. She just reaches over and puts a hand on his leg, offering whatever comfort she can.

 

“Maybe you should take a hot shower,” Jennifer suggests, “or even a hot bath. That might help you feel better.”

 

Bruce sighs. “Yeah, probably. Maybe. Good idea. I’m not used to having access to hot water right after.”

 

“Are you hungry?” Jennifer asks.

 

Bruce nods. “Always am after.”

 

“I’ll throw something together,” Jennifer promises. “You get cleaned up.”

 

“Thanks, Jen,” Bruce says quietly. “Really, thank you.”

 

Jennifer brushes his hair back from his forehead. “Remember that time when I had the stomach flu, and Mom and Dad had to go to work, and you stayed with me? This is payback.”

 

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Bruce replies with a smile.

 

“I puked on you. Twice.” Jennifer grins at the memory of Bruce’s dismayed expression. “I think I still owe you.”

 

“All right, then. I won’t argue. I’m glad you’re here,” Bruce replies. “And that you didn’t freak out.”

 

Jennifer smiles. “All part of the service.”

 

Tony doesn’t have much in the way of supplies, nor is she much of a cook, but she finds bread, butter, and cheese, and she starts putting together grilled cheese sandwiches. She’s only so-so in the kitchen, but she can do this much.

 

Bruce emerges soon enough, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, his hair damp. “Grilled cheese,” he observes with a grin. “Aunt Elaine’s go-to comfort food.”

 

“One or two?” Jennifer asks.

 

“One, for now,” Bruce replies. “I’ll make another if that’s not enough.”

 

They munch their sandwiches, and Bruce is making another when Pepper and Tony get home.

 

“Seriously,” Tony is saying as they walk into the kitchen. “I can’t believe he asked for your number.”

 

“We’re going to hold a press conference,” Pepper replies. “And we need to coordinate. So, yes, he asked for my number.”

 

Tony’s wearing a sweat-stained gray t-shirt that has a large hole over the arc reactor—and weirdly, Jennifer thinks she can see lettering around the metal edge. Tony looks pale and shaky, but he’s moving under his own steam.

 

“Are you hungry?” Jennifer asks. “We can make some more sandwiches.”

 

“I could definitely eat,” Tony replies.

 

They don’t talk much. Jennifer and Bruce make a few more sandwiches, and Tony eats silently. Jennifer gets the feeling that he’s completely exhausted; he would have to be, as quiet as he is.

 

When they get through their meal, Jennifer says, “I’ll clean up. You two need to sleep.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony agrees wearily. “Come on, Big Guy. Let’s get horizontal.”

 

There isn’t even the hint of innuendo in Tony’s voice, and Bruce nods, standing up. He presses a kiss to Jennifer’s forehead, and touches Pepper’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

 

Pepper stands and pulls Bruce into a hug. Jennifer can see the way he stiffens before he relaxes. She suspects that he needs this—Bruce needs to know that there are people who accept Bruce for who and what he is. Pepper whispers something in Bruce’s ear, and Jennifer sees Bruce tighten his hold briefly before letting go.

 

“’Night,” Bruce says absently, and then Tony holds out a hand, and they entwine their fingers.

 

“So,” Jennifer says after a long, somewhat awkward pause. “ _That_ happened.”

 

Pepper lets out a little laugh. “I guess it did. I’m going to be dealing with the fallout for days.”

 

“There probably isn’t anything I can do, but I’m happy to help however I can,” Jennifer offers. “I’ve told my boss that I need at least another week.”

 

Pepper smiles. “Are you sure you don’t want to come and work for Stark Industries? We could use a good attorney.”

 

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Jennifer replies. “I spent a long time thinking that Bruce might be dead, and I’d like to spend more time with him, but my life is in New York.”

 

Pepper raises an eyebrow. “You know that Stark Industries has an office in Manhattan, and I’m sure that Tony would be happy to let you use the company jet.”

 

Jennifer laughs, the temptation greater than she would have expected to take a corporate job. “I’ll think about it,” she promises. “But I like what I’m doing now.”

 

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Pepper says as Jennifer begins putting things away, stacking the plates and pan in the dishwasher. “Can I give you a hand?”

 

“I’m good,” Jennifer replies. “It’s relaxing, you know? There wasn’t much I could do out there, but at least I can clean up the kitchen.”

 

Pepper laughs. “And I have paperwork.”

 

“And a potential date,” Jennifer points out.

 

“He just wanted to coordinate for the press conference,” Pepper replies. “I mean, with my job, and his job…I doubt we’ll have any time.”

 

“Never know until you try,” Jennifer replies. “Not that I would know. I haven’t had a date in recent memory.”

 

“Tell me if you need anything,” Pepper says. “If I can help at all, or put in a good word with your boss, I will.”

 

“Honestly, I think right now I just want a glass of wine,” Jennifer admits plaintively. “Sorry.”

 

“No, me too,” Pepper says. “I don’t think Tony would mind if we opened a bottle.”

 

Jennifer grins. “And then you can give me all the dirt on Tony Stark. I promise, I will treat anything you say like it’s under attorney-client privilege.”

 

“You want the dirt on the guy your cousin is with?” Pepper asks.

 

“Pretty much,” Jennifer admits. “Plus, you know, he’s _Tony Stark_.”

 

Pepper laughs. “The magic fades the more you get to know him.”

 

“Maybe,” Jennifer replies. “But I just want to be sure that Bruce is in good hands when I leave.”

 

“Then I’ll get that bottle of wine,” Pepper says. “And we’ll talk.”

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce wakes up slowly the next morning to find that Tony is doing his best impression of an octopus—wrapped so tightly around Bruce that he knows he won’t be able to extricate himself without waking him.

 

They hadn’t done anything the night before other than exchange a quick kiss and fall into bed together, but it had been enough.

 

Just having Tony there with him, in one piece, had been enough for Bruce.

 

Tony lets out a sleepy grumble as Bruce pulls free, and he murmurs, “I’ll be right back.”

 

He empties his bladder and glances in the mirror, seeing the same thing he always does. He feels as though the last couple of days should have changed him—Jennifer and Pepper had seen what he becomes and had still sat down to have a meal with him. Tony’s waiting for him in their bed.

 

Bruce is pretty sure that the Other Guy had killed Obadiah Stane.

 

No, _he_ had killed Obadiah, and he doesn’t regret it.

 

What Tony did to him—and Bruce doesn’t regret any of it.

 

It’s the first time in his life that being in the wrong place at the wrong time has worked to his advantage.

 

He crawls back into bed, and Tony tugs him close again. “You okay?” he murmurs.

 

“I’m okay,” Bruce replies. “When were you going to tell me that Obadiah was dead?”

 

Tony groans. “I was going to break it to you gently.”

 

“The Other Guy isn’t known for his subtlety, and I saw the body on the sidewalk. It’s not like he got up and walked away.” Bruce moves them so that Tony is sprawled across him.

 

Tony presses his face against the side of Bruce’s neck. “I should have told you last night.”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Bruce replies. “It’s been a long time since someone wanted to protect me.”

 

“Always,” Tony says softly, his voice muffled against Bruce’s chest. “When Obadiah said he was going after you, I was so fucking scared he’d manage it.”

 

Bruce cranes his neck so that he can press a kiss to the top of Tony’s head. “No. Not even close. You know me. I’m impervious to damage.”

 

“He was going to hand you over to the Army to cement his own position,” Tony protests, pushing down Bruce’s pajama pants. “Fuck, Bruce.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Bruce says, and then pulls Tony’s underwear down. “Happy to oblige.”

 

Tony groans. “You know where the stuff is.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Bruce replies.

 

He starts off using his mouth, fingering Tony until he’s swearing, ordering Bruce to bring him off.

 

“Thought you might want me to fuck you,” Bruce says, pulling back.

 

“God, _yes_ ,” Tony says. “Just fucking _do_ it!”

 

Bruce finds the lube and condoms in the bedside table drawer, and he coats his fingers liberally, slowly working Tony open, finding Tony’s prostate and hitting it every time.

 

“In me!” Tony orders. “For fuck’s sake, do you need an engraved invitation?”

 

Bruce stops what he’s doing. “Do you need me to wait for one?”

 

Tony snarls at him. “Fuck me!”

 

“Since you ask so nicely,” Bruce replies, and pushes inside Tony slowly. He pauses for a moment, both to let Tony adjust and to keep himself from coming.

 

Tony threads his fingers through Bruce’s hair, cupping the back of his head. “I’m good,” he says quietly, the mood turning on a dime. “It’s all good.”

 

Bruce makes careful, shallow thrusts, angling his hips just right, and Tony lets out a breath. “Yes. Just like that,” Tony says. “Just like that.”

 

Bruce begins to thrust a little harder. “Yeah, we’re good,” he murmurs.

 

They move together until Bruce is coming hard, retaining just enough awareness to give Tony a helping hand.

 

Tony comes all over Bruce’s hand, and Bruce collapses on top of him, feeling the hard ridge of the arc reactor against his chest, pressing his lips against Tony’s bare shoulder. “You okay?” Tony asks.

 

“More than okay,” Bruce assures him. “You want to get cleaned up?”

 

“I think we’d better,” Tony replies.

 

They shower together perfunctorily, and it’s easy and comfortable in a way that Bruce has rarely experienced.

 

Bruce presses his lips against Tony’s shoulder as the water from the multiple heads pound against them, and Tony runs his hands through Bruce’s hair. “How long can I expect you to stay?” Tony asks.

 

“As long as you like,” Bruce admits. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

 

“Forever, then,” Tony says, like it’s a given. “Good.”

 

Bruce can’t disagree. “When are you getting the other arc reactor back?”

 

“Agent Coulson is supposed to drop it off today,” Tony replies. “I should have enough power to hold me that long.”

 

“Good,” Bruce murmurs, kissing him again, drunk on Tony’s touch.

 

When they finally emerge, Jen and Pepper are talking over coffee, both of them in pajamas. “Hi there,” Bruce says.

 

“I can make eggs,” Jen offers.

 

Bruce is well aware that his cousin’s cooking leaves something to be desired. “I’ll make omelets,” Bruce counters. “You can help.”

 

He puts her to work chopping tomatoes and other vegetables that are just a little past their prime.

 

He makes one omelet for Pepper and Tony to share, and then starts on the next for himself and Jen.

 

“Brings back memories,” Jen says quietly as Bruce cooks.

 

“It does,” Bruce says fondly, flipping the omelet.

 

Jennifer touches the small of his back. “Good.”

 

Bruce really can’t think of another time he’s been so content.

 

This moment is enough to make him believe that being in the wrong place at the wrong time isn’t all bad.

 

~~~~~

 

Coulson sends another agent with the arc reactor, which is safely packed away in a hard-sided case. “Agent Coulson wanted me to let you know that you’re expected to be at Stark Industries tomorrow for a press conference,” the young woman says briskly. “He’ll give you a prepared statement to read then.”

 

Tony nods, since they’d talked about that the night before, when Coulson had taken Tony’s statement at the hospital, and then had said SHIELD would take care of the fallout. Tony had agreed, because he’d really wanted to get home, and he hadn’t seen the point of arguing about it.

 

“Thanks,” he says. “Bruce? You want to give me a hand?”

 

“Happy to,” Bruce replies easily, following Tony down to the workshop. “Do you want to put it in, or should I?”

 

Tony’s inclined to do it himself, but the angle is slightly awkward, and he trusts Bruce.

 

Right now, Bruce is the only one he trusts anywhere near the arc reactor.

 

He pulls off his t-shirt and sits down, allowing Bruce to hook the electrodes for the EKG up to his chest. Bruce runs a hand over the old arc reactor and down Tony’s chest. “This okay?”

 

“I’m good,” Tony assures him.

 

Bruce’s movements are quick and sure as he swaps the old reactor for the newer one. “I needed to talk to you about something.”

 

“You finally going to tell me what you’re working on?” Tony asks lightly as it clicks into place.

 

Bruce takes a step back and wipes his hands on a rag. “I got to thinking about the palladium.”

 

“What about it?” Tony asks, pulling his t-shirt back over his head.

 

“It’s not exactly non-toxic,” Bruce says slowly.

 

Tony frowns. “What are you getting at?”

 

“Long-term exposure to palladium—the toxicity will build up in your blood,” Bruce says haltingly. “Eventually, it’s going to kill you.”

 

Tony runs a hand through his hair, uncertain how to react. “How long are we talking?”

 

“A year, maybe a little more,” Bruce replies, his expression grim.

 

That’s not good news, but Tony has no idea how he feels about it. If he has a year, there’s time to figure out another solution. He refuses to believe that the arc reactor will be the thing that finally kills him. “What are my options?”

 

“Get the arc reactor removed, along with the shrapnel,” Bruce begins.

 

Tony shakes his head, his stomach twisting at the idea. Maybe it’s stupid, but he’s not ready to give up the arc reactor or the suit. “No. Absolutely not.”

 

“Then we’ll work on it,” Bruce says, sounding a little desperate. “There are things we can do to slow down the process, and there might be an alternative to the palladium core that I haven’t thought of yet.”

 

Tony hauls Bruce in for a hard hug. “You saved my life twice now. I trust you.”

 

“I should have told you sooner,” Bruce replies, sounding miserable. “There was just so much going on, and I wanted to present you with the solution, not just the problem.”

 

“Two heads are better than one,” Tony insists. “I’ll be fine.” He doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince—himself or Bruce—but he has to believe it.

 

Bruce nods, taking a deep breath. “Okay. You don’t mind if Jen stays for another week, right?”

 

“Not at all,” Tony assures him. “I like her. She can visit whenever she wants.”

 

“She said she had to get some work done today, but maybe we can go out for dinner while she’s in town,” Bruce suggests.

 

Tony nods. “Which reminds me—I feel like I owe you a date.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “I’m not even sure I know what one of those is anymore.”

 

“Then it’s time you found out,” Tony replies. “Once we get through this press conference, I’ll show you a good time.”

 

“You already have,” Bruce replies with a smile.

 

“But right now, show me what you’ve got on the palladium problem,” Tony says.

 

Oddly enough, even with the news about the palladium, Tony can’t help but feel strangely content with Bruce working next to him. They’re both in one piece—at least for now—and Bruce is going to stay.

 

They work steadily until dinnertime, when Jen knocks on the door to the workshop. “Come on, guys. Dinner and a movie is on me tonight.”

 

And Tony thinks that this is almost what having a family would probably feel like.

 

When he wakes up the next morning with Bruce sprawled out next to him, Tony can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be, and it’s with some regret that he gets up to prepare for the day.

 

“You’re coming to this thing, aren’t you?” Tony asks as he knots his tie.

 

Bruce buttons his Oxford shirt. “Yeah, but I’m not making a statement. I know what Coulson said about them being able to protect me, but I’d rather not draw too much attention to myself.”

 

Tony smirks.

 

“I don’t have your affinity for the spotlight,” Bruce says dryly. “I imagine I’m going to get enough of that now that people know we’re dating.”

 

“It’s probably for the best if people don’t know about your greener half,” Tony agrees. “But you know, if I’m in the spotlight, all eyes are on me, not you.”

 

“Unless I’m with you,” Bruce points out, shrugging into a suit jacket. “But it’s a small price to pay.”

 

Tony glances at him. “For what?”

 

“For being with you,” Bruce replies with a warm smile. “You ready?”

 

Tony nods. “Yeah, let’s get going.”

 

Jen sees them off, giving both Bruce and Tony a quick, hard hug. “I’ve got to get this brief written, but I’ll be watching it on TV. Good luck.”

 

Tony’s surprised at the gesture of affection, but not displeased.

 

Pepper’s waiting for them in the back of the limo, a makeup kit in hand. “Come here,” she says. “I’m supposed to cover up the cuts and bruises.”

 

“Oh, so that’s how we’re handling it,” Tony says. “What are we telling people?”

 

“That it was your bodyguard,” Pepper replies.

 

Tony snorts. “A bodyguard? No one is going to buy that.”

 

“They will if you sell it,” Pepper replies. “And you’re going to sell it.”

 

Tony looks to Bruce for help, but Bruce just shrugs. “People will believe a lot of things,” he offers. “What about Obadiah?”

 

“A plane accident,” Pepper says. “Phil says it won’t be hard to fake the paperwork.”

 

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Oh, it’s Phil now, is it?”

 

Pepper frowns at him severely. “Hold still, Tony. And yes. We met yesterday afternoon to go over how we’ll be handling the press.”

 

Her glare prevents Tony from pressing for additional details. “All right, fine. I’ll play nice.”

 

Pepper has the worst of the cuts and bruises covered up by the time Happy pulls up in front of Stark Industries. They go in a side office, where Rhodey’s waiting for them.

 

“Tony,” he says, sounding relieved. “Glad to see you’re in one piece.”

 

“Good to be in one piece,” Tony replies, shaking his hand.

 

Rhodey turns to Bruce, and Tony prepares to run interference. “Dr. Banner, I wanted to extend my personal thanks.”

 

Bruce blinks, obviously surprised. “There’s nothing to thank me for. And call me Bruce.”

 

Rhodey holds out a hand, and Bruce shakes it, looking a little bemused.

 

Tony knows exactly what Rhodey is doing, though, and he appreciates the gesture. He really would like it if Rhodey and Bruce could get along.

 

“Mr. Stark,” Coulson says as he lets himself in the room. “Here’s your statement.”

 

He attempts to hand Tony the stack of notecards, but Pepper intercepts them. “He doesn’t like being handed things,” she says apologetically before Tony can.

 

Tony takes the cards from her and glances down at them. “I really don’t think people are going to buy the bodyguard story.”

 

“Just read the statement,” Coulson says pleasantly. “We’ll take care of the rest.”

 

Tony shrugs, and glances at Bruce, who smiles wryly. “Good luck.”

 

Tony nods. “Let’s do this.”

 

Bruce hangs back, staying close to Pepper, with Coulson trailing them. Rhodey leads the way to the low platform at the front.

 

Tony doesn’t pay much attention to either the reporters or Rhodey’s introduction, well used to the attention and sight of flashbulbs by now. He scans the room, catching Bruce’s eye briefly, appreciating Bruce’s calm demeanor, and the knowledge that when all this is over, they’ll be going home together.

 

When he steps up to the podium, there are yet more flashbulbs, and Tony spots the reporter from _Vanity Fair_ —the one he’d slept with months ago, and who had shown him pictures of Gulmira just recently.

 

She looks profoundly skeptical, and Tony knows that she’s put it together.

 

“Do you really expect us to believe that it was a bodyguard in a suit?” she demands as he begins to read his statement.

 

Tony stops. “Actually, I do,” he replies. “If you’ll let me finish.”

 

Rhodey leans in to whisper. “Just read what’s on the cards, Tony.”

 

Tony looks past the reporters to see Bruce standing there, and he realizes that he can’t do this—he’s not going to lie about who he is. He’s not going to sneak around and hide behind a mask. That’s not him.

 

And he thinks the truth might just afford both him and Bruce a little better protection. It will certainly keep the spotlight off Bruce.

 

“You’re right,” Tony says, and sees Bruce’s eyes go wide as he realizes what Tony is going to do. Bruce smirks knowingly, and Tony continues, “It’s ridiculous to think about someone running around in a suit of armor. I mean, everybody knows I’m not a hero.”

 

Bruce shakes his head, and Tony appreciates the fact that Bruce thinks of him as a hero.

 

“But the truth is,” Tony says, tilting up his chin and squaring his shoulders. “The truth is—I am Iron Man.”

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce hears Tony’s pronouncement and feels a burst of pride mixed with fear.  Telling the world that he’s Iron Man won’t do anything to keep Tony safe, and it’s probably going to draw more attention than ever.

 

But then, Bruce figures that just means Tony will need him that much more, and Bruce will need to watch Tony’s back.

 

And no one is asking questions about the Other Guy right now, maybe because they’re letting everyone believe that Tony had been the only other person involved in the mess at Stark Industries.

 

Next to Bruce, Coulson heaves an aggrieved sigh. “I have to make a call,” he says. “Dr. Banner, do what you can to keep Mr. Stark from making my life any harder.”

 

Bruce snorts and knows better than to make promises.

 

“I’ll call you,” Pepper tells Coulson, with a smile that suggests she’s amenable to discussing more than just business.

 

Coulson nods at them both and then strides away.

 

The reporters are still shouting questions, and Tony’s standing behind the podium, not trying to answer, just letting the sound wash over him. Rhodey finally steps in and says, “Tony won’t be answering any questions at this time,” and hustles Tony off the platform.

 

Bruce and Pepper meet Tony by the door, and Tony reaches for Bruce’s hand immediately, entwining their fingers in a gesture that tells Bruce that Tony’s not nearly as calm as appears.

 

“Can I leave you on your own?” Rhodey asks. “Or do you need a babysitter to keep you from getting into even more trouble?”

 

Tony glares at him. “That wasn’t trouble. That was me being proactive. Secret identities don’t stay secret long when everything you do is front page news.”

 

“Front page of the society section, you mean,” Rhodey grumbles. “Fine. Just keep a low profile for the next few days, okay?”

 

“I’ve got some work to do on the suit,” Tony replies. “Bruce is going to spend some time with his cousin. We’ll be fine.”

 

Pepper sighs. “I have a few things to do here. Tony, do you need anything more from me?”

 

“No, but we should probably show Jennifer a good time when she’s in town. Get us reservations somewhere?” Tony asks. “And feel free to join us.”

 

“I think I will,” Pepper replies. “I like Jennifer. She makes my life easier.”

 

Her tone is pointed, but it either flies right over Tony’s head, or he ignores it.

 

“Let’s get going, Bruce,” Tony says. “Happy, take the scenic route, will you? I’d like to shake the inevitable tail,” he orders once they’re in the backseat of the car.

 

“You got it, boss,” Happy replies and steps on the gas.

 

Happy shakes off the paparazzi by braving the worst of the Los Angeles afternoon traffic, and as they’re stuck at a light, Tony asks, “You don’t mind, do you?”

 

“No, I think you’re right,” Bruce replies after a pause, knowing what Tony’s referring to. “Sooner or later, the truth would come out. I think it’s probably better to do it on your own terms. If it’s all the same to you, though, I’d like to keep my own secrets.”

 

Tony smiles. “They’re your secrets to tell, Bruce. I won’t out you.”

 

“Although if I keep hanging around you, and the Other Guy keeps showing up with Iron Man, that probably won’t last very long,” Bruce observes after a minute.

 

“We don’t have to make it easy on them,” Tony says. “Look, now that you’re staying on, I wanted to ask if you’d work for me. Well, with me. Definitely with me. I mean, you could find a job teaching somewhere, and I’m sure that would be fine, but—”

 

“Yes.” Bruce acquiesces before he can think about it too hard. He figures after three months in a cave together, a couple of near-death experiences, and several weeks sharing a bed, working with Tony will be a cakewalk. “I’d like that.”

 

Tony grins. “Great. Just wait, Bruce. We’re going to do amazing things. I’ve got a few ideas in mind to move Stark Industries forward as an innovative company that works for the greater good.”

 

Bruce lets Tony rattle on for the rest of the drive. He’s got big plans, and while Bruce isn’t entirely sure where he’ll fit in to all of it, he’s happy to be along for the ride.

 

Happy drops them off at the house, and Tony gives him the rest of the night off. The sun has nearly set, the last light of day fading, as they let themselves inside.

 

Bruce is a little surprised when Jen meets them at the door. “There’s someone here,” Jen says quietly. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

 

“Are you okay?” Bruce asks quickly.

 

She nods, but she still looks a little unsettled. “He’s with the same organization as Agent Coulson, and he wanted to see both of you. I’m going to make myself scarce. Tony—that was a hell of a press conference.”

 

Tony smiles. “In a good way?”

 

“Well, I don’t think anybody’s going to be looking twice at Bruce now, so yes. I’d say so.” Jen gives him a quick, grateful look. “Thanks.”

 

Tony shrugs, but he doesn’t deny that was part of his thinking, and Bruce wonders at that, although he’s not terribly surprised. He doesn’t think that either of them had found the boundaries of what they’re willing to do for one another.

 

The man waiting for them in the living area is imposing to say the least—tall, bald, eye patch, black leather coat.

 

“‘I am Iron Man,’” he quotes, his voice deep and resonant. “I’m not sure you know what can of worms you just opened, Mr. Stark. You think you two are the only superheroes in the world?”

 

“I’m not a superhero,” Bruce objects.

 

The man turns to look at Bruce, and Bruce feels a little like a bug that’s about to be pinned. “Maybe, maybe not. Jury’s still out on that.”

 

Tony angles his body so that he’s between Bruce and the man’s direct line of sight. “Who the hell are you?”

 

“Nick Fury,” he replies after a beat. “Director of SHIELD.”

 

Bruce glances at Tony, who’s still glaring fiercely at Fury. “What do you want with us?” Bruce asks quietly.

 

“I want to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative,” Fury replies. “I was going to wait a little longer, but your stunt today pushed up the timetable.”

 

Tony frowns. “And what are your plans for us?”

 

Fury faces them squarely. “We want to see if you’d be a good fit. Right now, the jury’s still out on that, too.”

 

“Let us know what you decide,” Tony says dismissively. “And set something up with Pepper. If you’ll excuse us, we’ve got a few things to get done.”

 

“Tony,” Bruce says quietly, wrapping a hand around Tony’s wrist to keep him from leaving. “Agent Coulson said you could keep the Army off my back.”

 

Fury nods. “That deal still stands, Dr. Banner. We don’t want the Hulk falling into the Army’s hands.”

 

“That being said, why should I trust _you_ with the Other Guy?” Bruce asks bluntly.

 

“I didn’t say you should,” Fury replies. “I’ll be in touch.”

 

He sweeps out of the room, effectively getting the last word.

 

Bruce takes a deep breath and feels Tony’s hand clasp the back of his neck. “I don’t think I like that guy,” Bruce murmurs.

 

“Yeah, and I don’t trust him with you,” Tony replies. “But whatever happens, we’re in this together, right?”

 

And Bruce leans forward, resting his forehead against Tony’s temple. “Definitely.”

 

Maybe they’ve both lost a lot, but Bruce thinks they might be smart enough to keep what they’ve found.


End file.
